C is for Contract, D is for Demon
by Azii
Summary: This is a series of A, B, C meme-type vignettes set in the 'Fidelitas' universe. Sebastian and Alexandra are the primary focus. Consider this a sugar-coated version 'Fidelitas' for the most part, but be advised that there are some rather dark moments here too. Modern AU. Sebastian X OC.
1. A

NB: This series of mini-stories is dedicated to pammazola for being generally awesome and for saving my stories. A secondary dedication goes out to a number of you who've requested another offering featuring Sebastian and Alexandra. At first I thought no one liked 'Fidelitas' and then I started getting messages that made me all giddy like a schoolgirl at a Justin Bieber concert. I'm so taken aback by all the support, and my only way of showing my appreciation was to write something for you guys. I hope this story serves as a small thank you for all your kindness and helpful critique.

So here's the deal: This series of very short vignettes is a meme of sorts. I'll choose a word beginning with each consecutive letter of the alphabet and write a few paragraphs about it. Please feel free to suggest words for the next chapter. I will incorporate the most suitable suggestion.

In terms of timing, please keep in mind that these stories can take place at any time in the 'Fidelitas' timeline. They will feature Sebastian and Alexandra primarily, but don't be surprised if you see Yuri or John from time to time. I'm expecting these to have more fluff than anything else I've written (and I'm a bit nervous about it, to be honest), so I'm really looking forward to your feedback.

One last thing: For the few of you that are reading 'Requiem', please know that this story will not interfere with my completing that one. I know I've been on hiatus, but I'll be working on 'Requiem' as my major project until it's finished.

Content Warning: Fluff incoming.

* * *

Sebastian knew something was amiss in his master's bedroom. He'd been leaning against the door listening to her tossing and turning for the better part of an hour. Alexandra was prone to nightmares; most people who'd seen their family butchered before their eyes were prone to nightmares. Even so, this particular nightmare was not the recurring one which played those real memories over and over again like some demonic déjà vu. This was something new. He closed his eyes, willing himself to see what she was seeing but all he caught was a mass of long, hairy legs moving towards him at a terrifying pace. He'd been concentrating intently, trying to catch more of the dream when he heard Alexandra wake with a start. The vision dissipated.

"This will never do." He opened the door and found her tangled in her bedding, a cold sweat making her pajamas stick to her body. He had to admit that a sweaty, sticky Alexandra was rather alluring.

"Sebastian." She was panting heavily as though she'd just been running a marathon. He quite liked the breathlessness with which she spoke his name.

"You had a nightmare."

"You heard me from outside the door?" She was about to comment on how creepy it was for him to stalk her in her own home when she realized that she could practically _hear _him smirking.

"Not precisely." He chuckled softly; this was going to be so very amusing. "You are aware that I can sometimes feel what you feel. Did it never occur to you that I am able to see what you see…or dream what you dream?"

"What?" Yes. He definitely had her attention. She was gaping at him in alarm now, but he knew that alarm would quickly give way to anger. He prepared himself to dodge whatever she might throw at him. Given that he could make out the downward turn of her lips by the angle of the shadow cast across them in such dim light, he was sure it would be a sharp object of some sort. "You can see my dreams? All of them?"

"It makes perfect sense if you think about it logically. You are less guarded emotionally when you sleep."

"You've seen my nightmares about Isaac and Nikki? My dreams of my childhood? My-" a flush found its way across her cheeks, and although he could not see it by moonlight alone, he knew without a doubt that it was there.

"Your fantasies about me? Oh yes. I've seen them. All of them." Twin rubies glowed in the low light as he moved closer.

"Goddamn you!" She threw a book at his head, knowing it would miss. He remained undeterred. Those cat-like eyes were all she could make out clearly and they were closing in on her. She was trapped in her own sheets—a struggling insect caught in his web. Alexandra didn't have to see him to know that he was looking at her with _that_ look.

"It is too late for that, I'm afraid." He spoke in the kind of dangerous whisper that sent heat zipping down her spine, and when he caught her lips with his own, she forgot completely that she was supposed to be angry with him.

He'd turned a number of her fantasies into reality that night, and she was thankful for the additional memories. Indeed, the more pleasant memories she could add to her repertoire of experiences, the less likely her sleeping unconscious would hit upon a nightmare with which to torture her.

He got up from the bed to collect their discarded clothes and the book that she'd thrown at him. Sebastian was a bit obsessive compulsive in that regard so she let him tidy up without reminding him that he was not a butler. He looked at the book: _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. _That was when he abandoned all pretense of being a mysteriously sexy demon and started laughing outright.

"What?" 'Miffed' was the only word capable of describing Alexandra's affect at that moment.

"Forgive me master. I just realized that your nightmare was predicated upon a children's book."

"Oh, go to Hell, Sebastian. I fell asleep reading just as Ron was being chased by a horde of hungry acromantulas. I've been terrified of spiders ever since I was a little girl. It's an irrational phobia, yes, but I'll take dreams of giant, man-eating arachnids over nightmares about Isaac and Nikki anyday."

Sebastian had no idea who Ron was, and didn't really care, but he decided he'd better cut his mocking short before she decided to try any of her own magic tricks. "Acromantulas?"

"Yes, they're like house-sized tarantulas that talk."

He came back to bed and slid in beside her after depositing the book on the nightstand. "They sound terrifying." Alexandra heard the condescension in his voice even though he tried to mask it. She huffed angrily. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. He'd never grow tired of these sorts of surprises. She could witness worldly horrors with stoic reserve but wake in a cold sweat if she thought about spiders before she slept.

"You're mocking me." She seemed a bit more mollified now, probably more by his physical proximity than anything that he'd said. "You know, I often feel like there's something wrong with me."

"How so?"

"Well, it seems my sleeping brain reacts the same way to both my memories of real horrors and my irrational fears precipitated by my own imagination."

"I don't think that's something you ought to worry over, master."

"Stop calling me master. And how can you say what I should and should not worry over?"

"Because I am here to protect you from dangers both real and imaginary, until the very end." She relented and curled against him. There were things she wanted to say that she would not allow herself to articulate, but he felt her thoughts anyway. _Thank you Sebastian. Thank you for everything. _Alexandra fell asleep almost immediately. Sebastian knew she wouldn't have any more nightmares that night.

He slipped out of her bedroom after taking a final glance at her sleeping form and considered what she'd told him about her nightmare. _Spiders. Interesting. _As he made his way down the hallway, he came across a fat, hairy specimen of the species lurking in the shadows. It looked almost as if it were a sentry keeping watch. Sebastian nodded knowingly. "I don't know if this is one of your minions, Claude." He mercilessly squished it with the heel of his shoe. It made a satisfying crunch that elicited a most devilish smirk. "But if you dare to invade her dreams again, I will finish you permanently. She's mine." He wiped the bottom of his shoe with a handkerchief, finally flinging the crushed arachnid into the library fireplace.

Sebastian hated spiders too.

* * *

'A' is for 'acromantula'. Yes, seriously.


	2. B

NB: I neglected to mention that these vignettes may not fit perfectly with what you've read in 'Fidelitas.' While the major themes will likely remain the same, you'll no doubt notice small inconsistencies here and there. I hope they're not too distracting.

Thanks everyone for all the faves already! Maybe I should write more fluff, huh? ;)

Also, I don't own 'Kuroshitsuji' but I'd have Sebastian tied up in my basement if I did.

Author Commentary: I took what I consider to be a huge risk with this story. More than anything else I've written, I hope it's worth the read. Also, this chapter will require the suspension of your scientific acuity. I'm pretty sure my description of the future is pretty far-fetched for the time that's passed. Thanks for your indulgence.

* * *

The world had changed. Nuclear fission powered transportation pods had replaced gasoline powered automobiles. Telephones had been made obsolete by holograms, although teleportation capabilities were still relegated to the realm of science fiction. Global warming had turned out not to be a myth after all, and in mid-summer, Russia's climate was almost tropical in nature. Forests had once again claimed a great deal of the earth's arable surface and the old cemetery that once stood on the outskirts of St. Petersburg was now overrun with thick shrubs and creeping ivies. Sebastian moved through the flora with little difficulty – an elegant dark shadow amongst the other brightly-colored denizens of the forest. He'd always seemed a bit anachronistic in any era. Maybe it was because he was an immortal, or maybe it was because he preferred dark woolen suits to the tawdry jumpsuits that had become fashionable of late, but he forever looked and felt out of place. Even his vocabulary and affect had an old-world charm about it. It made him particularly conspicuous in this future of crystal cities and utopian ideologies, but he didn't care. He could be invisible when he chose to be.

Petersburg had been abandoned nearly eighty years earlier, its citizens opting to live in the bustling metropolises that promised a shining future. Sebastian was thankful for the solitude. He came upon the crumbling mausoleum. Having been ravaged by time, it took on the look of an ancient Inca or Aztec ruin. The more resilient species of plants grew through the cracks that now covered its exterior. It had been two hundred years to the day since he last visited the tiny neo-gothic structure that housed the remains of the Nikolayevich family—a bicentennial of sorts. He remembered his final conversation with Yuri as if it had happened yesterday. He had felt incredibly isolated then, a stagnant figure lost in a sea of shifting sands. The previous centuries had proved him right on that count. He'd made a number of contracts since Alexandra, and with the fulfillment of each, he often felt that nothing changed. Not for him anyway.

He walked up the steps which had long ago fallen into disrepair. Had his former master been truly laid to rest in this place, he'd have seen to the mausoleum's repair. But Alexandra's soul had been rendered to him once their contract was fulfilled, and the grave that marked her resting place was nothing but an empty tomb designed to comfort those that she'd left behind. He heard her voice often in the earliest days after her earthly death. She'd become part of him, after all, so her mischievous tone and bell-like laugh came to him as though his own conscience had been given voice. He never figured out if the phenomenon was indeed as a result of her soul now residing within him or if her voice had been conjured by his own imagination. But as the time passed, so too did their interactions become more muted. He'd not heard Alexandra's laugh in decades. A part of her remained with him eternally, he knew, but that did not comfort him in the least.

As he entered the mausoleum, he caught sight of a fourth grave marker. Yuri had been buried with the family he so faithfully served. Sebastian smiled.

"Hello Yuri. I suppose you'd like to make jokes about demons and hallowed ground, but I'm afraid such jokes lack all gravitas when the aforementioned hallowed ground has been overrun by poisonous insects and weeds."

Sebastian was not a hopeless romantic or a sentimental fool, to be sure. He was, however, a demon that was unusually capable of feeling and tended to grow fond of many of his contractors. He reckoned that beings linked by something as powerful as a demonic contract were bound to develop strong feelings for one another, whether those feelings be negative or positive. Nevertheless, there were a few contractors such as Ciel Phantomhive and Alexandra Nikolayevich for whom he felt something more than fondness. And so he made the rounds to their respective 'resting places' on days like this when he needed some shred of evidence that he too could be affected, could be changed the tiniest bit by the ravages of time, even while the rest of the world moved inexorably forward.

He slipped a gloved hand into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and retrieved a platinum wedding band. In the dim light of the mausoleum it gave off a kind of silver sheen. Alexandra had removed this particular wedding band and placed it upon Isaac's grave over two hundred years ago. Sebastian remembered the depth of the sadness in her eyes as she'd done so. It was her way of saying goodbye to him; she'd known that she would travel too far down the rabbit hole with her demon companion to ever find her way back to Isaac. The ring was stolen a few years after Alexandra's death. Sebastian had chastised her residual soul for leaving such a precious item so unprotected. It had taken him the intervening years and a considerable amount of skill to track it down. He replaced it on Isaac's grave and pressed it into the marble. "_Meinete._" The ring sank into the stone, and when it was flush with the newly-made groove in which it now rested, Sebastian removed his finger with a satisfactory smile playing across his lips. _Let's see someone try to steal it now._

He brought flowers for Isaac and Nikki, but none for Alexandra. She would have liked this gesture. Not expecting to find Yuri here, he conjured a bouquet of white lilies out of nothing and placed them upon Yuri's grave marker.

"I still know a trick or two, old man." He laughed, his rich voice reverberating in the small chamber.

Sebastian stood at the foot of the graves a moment longer; the flash of heat on the back of his left palm meant that his current contractor was calling him. He turned on his heel and made his way out of the mausoleum to the forest and then the city beyond. As he crossed the threshold, he heard it. It was faint, but unmistakeable nevertheless—a lilting whisper that brought with it a host of memories:

_Thank you, Sebastian._

* * *

'B' is for 'bicentennial'.

Sorry for the lack of fluff here. This came to me and I just couldn't *not* write it. I still expect the majority of these vignettes to be fairly upbeat.


	3. C

NB: Thanks for all faves, alerts, and especially the reviews. Your support is truly appreciated.

* * *

Alexandra lurked in the long shadow cast between two run-down buildings in Petersburg's old town. She'd positioned herself just outside of the yellow pool of light made by the only working street lamp in that area. If anyone came by, she could see them without being seen. Unfortunately, standing in a narrow alley did nothing to ameliorate the biting cold. The night wind cut through her as it passed between the buildings, and she pulled her leather jacket more tightly around herself in an effort to trap the heat. _I should have put on something warmer._

She'd followed him. She had to. He never slept. He rarely spoke of things other than their contract and the steps required for its completion. Once or twice, he'd spoken of his past. Conversations beyond that were generally directed at seducing her. _And damnit, it works every time. _As a result, Alexandra knew little about Sebastian's activities when he wasn't in her immediate presence. She only knew that he had a tendency to leave the manor from time to time. So she followed him, fully expecting to find him making an evening of the young men and women who frequented the seedy pubs in this part of town. _He's insatiable, after all. _More than once, she wondered if he had an otherworldly lover to whom he returned when he grew bored with his human prey. _That must be it, then. _What else could he be up to? Sebastian would certainly make her privy to any information he obtained about Rasputin and his followers; it was part of their contract. As such, his absences could not be work-related. As far as she knew, he had no other acquaintances, and she doubted very seriously that demons were in the habit of making social visits. This, then, was personal. She didn't like personal. Personal meant he was occupied by someone or something other than their contract. _It's not like I'm jealous, _she told herself. _I just want to know exactly what my subordinate is doing. _

She watched him enter the building directly across the street. He moved with an elegant stride, sliding past the inhabitants of the city with such ease that she was sure they couldn't see him. But he was still within her sights. Their contract meant that Sebastian would find her anywhere; she could never escape when it came time to trade her soul. What he didn't know was that the snare he'd set for her could be reversed. He too could be tracked, could be found, could be followed. She smiled a devil's smile. _He's contracted an exorcist. What did he expect?_

A light in an upstairs room had come on moments after he entered the building. She crept after him, making no effort to muffle her footsteps. Sebastian would feel her presence soon enough. The narrow steps creaked on her way up. _This place seems far too unkempt for him. Whatever he's doing, it can't be good. _She came upon the only door which was illuminated from behind. He had to be inside. Alexandra turned the knob without knocking or announcing herself. She owned him, after all_. _The room was small and sparse but incredibly tidy. A writing desk stood on the far wall underneath the bare window. Moonlight streamed in and joined the meager orange glow coming from a solitary lamp. A bed was pushed against the wall to her left, its cotton sheets unwrinkled. _It's unused_, she noted, completely ignoring the feeling of relief that swept over her. The floor was made of wooden boards, and like the stairs, they gave as she made her way towards the desk, attracted to it by the silvery glint of something lying on its surface. It was a pocket watch. She reached out to touch it. A double-eagle seal had been carved onto its front. It was a delicate thing of beauty, most certainly an heirloom, and she wondered how it had come into his possession.

"Covetousness is a sin, master. As I am sure you're aware." Alexandra whirled around. His voice startled her and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out in alarm. He'd materialized from the shadows in the corner of the room, vermillion eyes afire and lithe form leaning against the door from which she'd entered, blocking the only exit. In other circumstances, she'd rarely be fearful of her demon charge, but the fact that they were no longer in her home made Sebastian seem unnervingly dangerous. She shivered and stumbled backwards into the desk.

"Covetousness? You think I'm jealous? Nonsense." Alexandra scoffed. "Possessiveness is in your nature. That does not mean it is in mine."

"Oh? Then why have you come?"

"To keep an eye on my subordinate. You work for me, remember? I can't have you wasting our time with….whatever it is you do here."

Sebastian only laughed and took a step towards her. His eyes flashed a brighter red, sending a searing heat through her shoulder blade where he'd placed the seal that marked their covenant. She flinched. "Yes, you are my prey. We're bound. Believe me when I say that I could hardly forget that fact."

"Exactly. I am here to make sure that I'm getting what I pay for. You didn't come cheap, you know." Alexandra certainly felt like prey at the moment, but she was still his master, and she was not about to let him forget _that_.

"Deceit is also a sin." There was a dark, dark edge to his velvet voice and she was torn between wanting to run away and wishing he'd take her right then. The air in that little room had suddenly become charged with electricity, and all of it seemed to be aimed at keeping her rooted to the spot.

"How have I deceived you?" Her thoughts became muddled. She wondered if this too was his doing; it was certainly within his power to invade her mind. Alexandra felt suddenly dizzy. The room was spinning. She moved past him towards the door, hoping to leave before things escalated beyond her control. _I should never have come here. He's more powerful here._

"You mistake my meaning. You cannot deceive me. But you have certainly deceived yourself." He grabbed her by her arm as she walked past and pulled her close. The feeling of dizziness intensified into the sort of intoxication that came at the bottom of a very large highball glass. "You followed me here because you cannot endure the thought of me doing _this_ with anyone else." He moved then, shifting instantaneously into black mist and taking her along for the ride. He rematerialized crouching over her on the bed. She'd been pinned down, one of his hands pressing into her hip bone, his fingers leaving small bruises on her alabaster skin. The other hand had trapped both of her arms above her head. This was accomplished so quickly that she never registered it happening. She struggled against her captor to no avail. Sebastian ignored her writhing and slid his lips along the long column of her neck, finally bringing them to rest on the sensitive skin below her earlobe. Alexandra stopped struggling immediately. He could hear the erratic beating of her heart and feel the heat building under her skin. He grinned wickedly against her flesh. Finally, he pressed the tips of his canines into her neck, drawing out a desperate moan which suggested a combination of both pleasure and surprise. He laughed again. "Isn't that right?"

"N—no."

"No?" Sebastian freed her hands and shifted back, but his kept his knees on either side of her hips so she could not sit up. He inclined his head in a mocking gesture.

"No." She somehow managed to pull it together. Alexandra cleared her throat and comported herself in the most commanding manner possible given her position. It was no easy task. "So I'll ask you once again and you'll answer, or I'll order you. What are you doing here?"

He didn't seem the least bit put out by her imperiousness. He merely shrugged in a noncommittal sort of way. _The truth will hurt you_. "I simply wanted to know if you would follow where I lead." _I wanted to watch you fall from grace. You did not disappoint. You're willfully pursuing the cause of your own corruption._

"You lured me here just for the pleasure of watching me give chase?" Her voice cracked slightly, but she could not determine if it was from anger or resignation. The implications of her actions were only now beginning to come to her. She'd allowed him to mark her in every conceivable way; she'd given him both her soul and her body; she'd rendered to him some of her most intimate feelings along with her nightmares and fantasies (albeit unwittingly), and now, she'd followed him simply because she wanted to be certain that he was hers. _Who's the master here? And who's the servant if he's able to compel me without so much as a request? _

"Yes." He was still looming over her when she realized that the two of them had long ago crossed the Rubicon. _What is left to lose? _She'd traveled so far down the road to Hell with him that she'd never find her way back. Maybe she was damned from the beginning, but now she had given her blessing. Her only consolation was that she was not alone. Not tonight, at least. And not until the contract was completed. Alexandra smiled a conciliatory smile, abandoning all pretense of disinterest. She knew that he could read at least the tenor of her thoughts if not their precise form, and she knew too that he would respond accordingly. She slid one hand up his thigh and trailed it over his chest, finally wrapping it around his tie. A hearty tug at the silk pulled him down towards her. If he was bound to bring her beyond redemption, then she was resolute enough to come without hesitation, willingly even. He kissed her softly, letting her draw him even closer before he deepened their kiss into something more urgent and searching. If she'd had his powers of perception, she would have tasted the tiny trace of regret lingering on his lips.

"Lust too is a sin, master." His fingers had already found their way to the buttons on her jacket. She didn't feel the cold anymore.

"Well then, I suppose you'll have to hear my confession in the morning, Sebastian."

* * *

'C' is for 'covetousness'.


	4. D

NB: I didn't mention that I don't own Kuroshitsuji last chapter, so for the record, I don't own Kuroshitsuji. I own Alexandra, though, and she's a handful.

As always I appreciate all faves and alerts, and most especially reviews – not just because reviewers will sometimes say nice things about my stories, but also because reviewers will often have the best comments or questions about a piece. It helps. It really helps.

Also this chapter is long. Go grab a drink before you sit down to read it. I'll wait.

* * *

Alexandra would not have admitted to being drunk, although she might have owned that she wasn't quite sober either. She remembered having several glasses of scotch before a warm fuzziness settled in her chest, making her feel deliciously numb. She remembered also stumbling up the stairs and falling, fully-clothed, into her bed. After that, the events of the evening remained just out of reach of her consciousness. _I distinctly recall going to bed. So what the hell am I doing here? _She could guess that she was at the gatehouse, and given how the world seemed to be upended all of the sudden, she deduced also that she was lying on the floor. Alexandra felt horrendous. Her whole body ached, her head was pounding as a result of dehydration, and her eyes stung as she attempted to train her gaze on the man in front of her. His blurred outline slid in and out of focus as she squinted. She sat up gingerly, testing herself for signs of any lingering injuries. _Okay, I'm fine, apart from feeling hungover._

"You look like Hell." It was Yuri. She should have guessed as much by the steel-toe boots she saw upon opening her eyes. He'd been wearing such shoes for over twenty years.

"Always a prince, aren't you?" She relaxed almost instinctively. The last time she'd regained consciousness somewhere other than her own bedroom she'd woken to her family's murder. Yuri's very presence was a relief. _It can't be bad, then_. "Why am I here?"

"Surely someone of your talents can guess, Alex." A British accent, sharp and precise, came from behind. She whirled around to find John concentrating intently at the floor. She followed the line of his ice-blue eyes.

A large salt pentacle had been drawn on the floor. She'd been placed in its center. Crimson droplets appeared at irregular intervals in the lines of salt, and she had no doubt that John had used his magician's blood to seal her within the sigil. She stood up, fearful of upsetting the precarious balance she'd so recently achieved, but she could already feel the anger inching through her veins. _You son-of-a-bitch. _Alexandra moved purposefully, attempting to walk out of the pentacle, knowing all the while that her efforts would be futile. The minute she'd lifted her foot across the boundary, she felt herself being thrown back towards the center. She landed in a wreck of tangled limbs and carpet burns. The barrier was inordinately powerful; he'd added something to his blood to reinforce it. That's when she caught sight of Yuri holding up his own bandaged palm in explanation. A sweeping heat rushed through her where the hazy drunkenness had lately been. Her fury sobered her up almost instantly.

"Goddamn you, John! What's this?" She yelled at the exorcist. He remained unmoved.

"_Diffarreatio_." John uttered it nonchalantly, and as she realized what he and Yuri had undoubtedly planned, she found herself wishing she could break the magical barrier, not simply for her freedom's sake, but rather because she would have liked very much to wring John's neck.

"When did you become such a humanitarian?" Her words were dripping with venom and spite. If she couldn't break his barrier, then she'd attack in whatever way she could. "Nullifying a demonic contract requires a soul exchange for the one being freed. Are you seriously going to offer yourself just so I'm not condemned? I didn't know you cared." She mocked him. He only scoffed.

"No, he's not." Yuri spoke. Suddenly all her breath was stolen from her. Some part of Alexandra had known even before she asked John that Yuri would be the offering. John did not have the capacity for self-sacrifice, but Yuri had already given so much of himself to her and her family that he'd have considered his life a small price. He was unfailingly loyal and selfless to a fault.

She shook her head, as if the gesture alone could un-speak what he'd just said. "No, please. Not you. Please!" Alexandra pleaded desperately, her voice breaking from the effort. She ran towards the barrier once more, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. Again she knew that her efforts were unavailing, but if she could not break the enchantment, she wanted to feel something, _anything, _other than the dull thud of her heart. She was hurled back into the center of the pentacle. She found that could no longer get to her feet, and so she remained on her knees. Alexandra had not called upon God since that fateful night months ago, but now she prayed as she had done then, hoping against all reason that she'd be granted one last favor. _Please God. I know I am no longer worthy even to speak your name, but I ask nothing for myself. If you're there, if you're listening, if you're anything more than an absentee landlord, please don't let this happen. Do not make him pay for my sins. _

Yuri walked slowly towards the pentacle's perimeter and fell to his knees in front of her. He remained just outside the salt line so he could not embrace her as he longed to do. He spoke to her kindly, his mind conjuring memories of her first day of school, her first magical spell, her first exorcism, and even her first date with Isaac. He'd been present for every defining moment in her life. He would see her through this as well. "Sasha, you've reclaimed your magical power. You don't need Sebastian anymore. Once the _diffarreatio_ is completed, you'll be free once again to work under the protection of the Light. I will not watch as you condemn yourself."

"Do you think I'll have washed my hands of blood if you sacrifice yourself for me?" She spat the words, keeping her eyes averted. She felt betrayed.

"Yes. Sacrifice has incredible power; self-sacrifice even more so. You know this." His words were calm and patient. She ignored him. Her earlier anger had not dissipated, although it was now tempered with bitterness and heartache.

"You son-of-a-bitch, John! How dare you go behind my back?" She glared at the younger man, knowing full well that he too was at fault. Yuri was not a magician, although he understood magic well. He'd needed John to perform rite. John had obviously agreed without consulting Alexandra. _They betrayed me_. "I swear, _diffarreatio_ or not, when I get out of here, I'm going to kill you." She meant it. It was the first time that she'd wanted to end a life not for the sake of her murdered family, but rather to slake her own anger.

"We'll see about that." He seemed less buoyant than usual, and while she knew that John hated Sebastian in the way that only an exorcist could hate a demon, she knew too that he'd not acquiesced to Yuri's request lightly. The both of them had decided that freeing Alexandra from Sebastian was more important than her caretaker's life. _But they don't see that I'm already too far gone to be rescued. _

"Sebastian will never agree to Yuri's soul instead of mine." She said it with confidence, although she could not be sure that her assessment of Sebastian was correct. He'd only been hers for a few months, but given his preference for souls that had been slowly corrupted by their own descent into darkness, she suspected that he might not find Yuri very appetizing at all. Yuri was not a former agent of God who'd sullied his hands for the sake of revenge. Yuri had not bound himself to a devil in exchange for greater power. Yuri was good man, a pure soul. The Sebastian she knew coveted souls of a decidedly less pristine variety even though he'd never deign to dine on the truly evil.

"Sebastian has already agreed." The demon entered the room then, his eyes afire as he took in her pathetic, trembling form. As always, his face was marked by bland indifference and little else. She felt ashamed under his watchful stare. She'd rarely been so enfeebled in his presence and his detached observation shredded what little composure she had left.

"Sebastian, I order you to stop this." She nearly screamed at him, all the while desperately hoping that John had lied, that Sebastian had not betrayed her too.

"Master, surely you are aware that you cannot give binding orders when bound yourself." He nodded impassively to the salt lines encircling her. Her heart sank to her feet. _Et tu?_

John was making preparations for the _diffarreatio_ now, chanting softly in Aramaic over the two glasses of dove's blood mixed with wine that Sebastian had carried in with him. Her mind worked furiously for any enchantments in her considerable repertoire that would undo a _diffarreatio_. That she could not come up with one was unsurprising. Magic like this was exceedingly powerful, and its effects could not be reversed by any workaday spell. It would require either divine or demonic aid, and she'd been denied both. She closed her eyes again in a final, vain prayer. _Please God. I'll do anything. I'll give anything._

John finished chanting. Sebastian took one goblet from the exorcist wordlessly and turned his attention again to Alexandra. His demeanor disclosed nothing, but she swore she heard his velveteen whisper coming to her from the corners of her mind. _Drink._ A shocked gasp left her lips, but she was able to disguise it as yet another rattling sob. Again she glanced at her charge. He remained unmoved, yet she detected a mischievous glint alighting his eyes as he drank from his glass. _Trust me. _Alexandra thought that perhaps she shouldn't trust him, but she had no other option. She would be made to drink whether she chose to do so or not. She would have nodded her assent, but she knew that at that moment, weakened as she was by her supernatural prison, he could no doubt read her thoughts.

John walked past Sebastian, the other goblet in hand. Before he crossed the salt threshold, he cast another binding curse against her. She was immobilized without warning. _Damn he's good. _Her arms were locked at her sides and her feet seemed to have been nailed to the floor. She tugged at them helplessly. All she could do was stammer out a defiant "you bastard" as he came closer. He ignored her words, instead taking her by the chin and forcing her lips apart.

"This will be easier if you cooperate. You can't escape anyway." He placed the goblet to her lips and began tipping the contents into her mouth. Above the sound of blood rushing in her ears, she made out a very faint, "I'm truly sorry, Alex. I did it for Isaac." He pinched her nose, leaving her no choice but to swallow. The liquid burned as it progressed down her throat, trailing an unabating sting in its wake and bringing more tears to her already bloodshot eyes. She was beginning to feel dizzy again, no doubt from all her fighting against John's various spells. But then she caught a familiar flash of heat on her shoulder blade, precisely where Sebastian had marked her. _That crafty bastard, _she thought. She looked past John to Sebastian. He was wearing the devil's smile. _Confarreatio. How clever. _A dangerous smirk found its way to her lips then, and she felt John's magical bindings give way under the power that Sebastian had just rendered to her. It was a temporary surge, she knew, but movement returned to her limbs with a vengeance and before she could stop herself, her hands found their way around John's neck. She squeezed, relishing how satisfying it was to have him at her mercy.

His eyes widened in surprise. She pressed harder, choking all breath from his body, not really intending to kill him, but certainly wishing to cause him a great deal of harm. They fell to the floor, Alexandra settling on his chest to keep him pinned. _This will teach you to screw with me. _He was struggling underneath her now, but she found that she could not stop herself. John grabbed at her hands, yet she remained unaffected by his panic. It was then that she felt Yuri's firm grip on her shoulder. Immediately she snapped out of the angry fog that had taken hostage of her mind.

"If you kill him, you will be no different from those you hunt." She looked at Yuri aghast. For a man whose plans had been expertly foiled by a demon, he didn't seem very put out. He looked more resigned than anything. "It's over Sasha. Do not punish him for my sins." She let go. John sputtered and grabbed his throat. Alexandra could make out the tiny crescents of blood where her fingernails had cut into his flesh, but she could gather no sympathy at all for the other exorcist. She prepared herself for a longer fight. But instead of retaliating against Alexandra, John only glared at Sebastian with all the malice he could muster. His voice was hoarse from his recent ordeal, but the anger burning in his eyes could have put even the demon to shame.

"You demon scum. You contaminated the cups with your own blood."

Sebastian's smirk only lengthened in response. "Yes." The assertion was a hiss, and Alexandra knew that Sebastian was thoroughly enjoying getting the better of John. "I believe in your magical jargon you would call the resultant spell a _confarreatio_." His words were a mocking lilt, and John only clenched his jaw in response. "Nullifying my master's contract will require power beyond the abilities of any human now."

"You bas -"

"I think you'd better leave, John." Alexandra cut in. She'd already had enough of their bickering. And she didn't trust herself not to kill John if he lingered too long. John marched out of the room without a backwards glance. Alexandra looked after him, knowing that tonight's events would require requital sometime in the near future. He'd been defeated by a demon. He'd want revenge. She would contend with that later. It had already been too long a night.

It was Yuri's turn to speak. "Sebastian, I thought we had a deal. You lied." Yuri was not angry precisely, but his voice was stern, and he did seem more heavyhearted than Alexandra had ever seen him. It caused a fleeting feeling of guilt that she quickly buried under her own exhaustion. _Serves him right for going behind my back. _

Sebastian bowed in that dutiful way of his and as he looked at Yuri, she noted that he displayed no outward anger towards the older man. He was, if anything, more respectful towards Yuri than he'd been towards Alexandra of late. "My apologies if I have given you the wrong impression, Yuri. But there has been no betrayal here. I have always served my true master." He stood up from his bow, nodded quickly at Alexandra, and then followed after John into the night. She was surprised at his thoughtfulness. _Did my demon just give me some privacy? _She shook her head to dispel the very thought.

"Sasha—" Alexandra only held up her hand. She'd do the talking now. She'd earned as much, in her opinion. Yuri relented with a yielding huff.

"I know you were trying to save me, as you've always done. Has it ever occurred to you that if I lose you, I will have lost everyone that mattered to me? How could you expect me to live out such a meaningless life?"

"And a life ending in condemnation is better?" He sighed heavily. "This is far too steep a price."

She only shook her head, although her tone did soften considerably when she next spoke. "You can't save me, especially not after tonight. But I will need you. Without your help, everything I've done will be in vain. I cannot win this on my own. Do you understand?" He hesitated for a few moments, but finally he smiled in the same indulgent manner that he'd adopted on so many occasions. He leaned to kiss her cheek. It was a sign of ceasefire, a gesture of compromise, and while she was sure that he didn't agree with her, she was equally certain that he'd be by her side until the very end, much like Sebastian. Yuri would spend the rest of her life separating his duty from his emotions, and she did not doubt that he would be heartsick when all was said and done. His life would not be forfeit, but she wondered if the sacrifices she'd just asked of him would be more costly in the end. _And we all fall down, I suppose_. "Thank you."

Alexandra exited the gatehouse. She was drained of all energy, natural and preternatural, and she dreaded the long walk to the manor. The Russian winter had just arrived, and with it came freezing temperatures and cutting winds. She was unsurprised to find that Sebastian had been waiting for her just outside the door. He had a talent for lurking. He fell in step as they made their way home.

"I suppose you think you're very clever, don't you Sebastian?"

He laughed. It was a soft chuckle that could easily become seductive if he so chose. "I'd not have traded your soul for the world."

"Liar. I'm sure the world would offer delights that would compensate quite handsomely for my soul." He removed his heavy woolen overcoat and draped around her shoulders. It was a decidedly un-demonic gesture and she found herself more confused than comforted, although she was largely thankful for the added warmth. _  
_

He stepped in front of her and curled a finger under her chin. The harvest moon was reflected in his irises and she closed her own eyes to keep from falling under his spell. He laughed again. "I've tasted delights that would make angels wish to be human. But as of yet, I've not tasted a soul with whom I myself am in _confarreatio_. Truly, you grow more appetizing by the day, master."

"Stop calling me master, you conniving bastard."

* * *

'D' is for '_diffarreatio'_.

AN: _Diffarreatio_ was the form of divorce used by religious leaders in ancient Rome. It generally involved eating a specially-prepared sacrificial cake and drinking wine (yes, for serious). Conversely, _confarreatio_ is a marriage wherein one of the involved parties is a religious official. It too involves wine and cake. The Romans really knew how to party. I have adopted the terms here in a less technical sense - they signify the binding and un-binding of two souls. It's not a proper use of the words, but hell, I write fiction.

Okay. I'll stop being a pretentious bastard now.

This was a little less fluffier than I intended, but hopefully not too jarring. Night everyone!


	5. E

NB: Thanks to FeatheredXRequiem. I'd been having a bit of trouble with 'E' and while I didn't incorporate her exact suggestion, the idea behind this vignette still belongs completely to her.

Content warning: Fluff. Lots of it. So much, in fact, that I think Alexandra seems OOC. Well, you guys deserve the giggles after the last chapter's decidedly serious tone.

I have made an attempt at giving this vignette some semblance of plot. Forgive me if I've failed on that front. But do tell me if you think this vignette works/doesn't work in a review or PM. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

* * *

Alexandra looked across the table at her demon, her eyes alone conveying the sheer disgust bubbling up in her chest. He was wearing the sort of smug expression that she should have prohibited several months ago. Ordering him to stop grinning like _that_, however, would be interpreted as a show of weakness—a gesture that she had no intention of making. So she sat, arms primly in her lap, head inclined in a jaunty, if plastic manner, and the most cloyingly saccharine smile plastered to her face. Sebastian had insisted on etiquette lessons. _How absurd. _Truth be told, he did have a reason for subjecting her to this latest round of ungodly torture. Alexandra had been searching for information on high-level members of Rasputin's cult of followers. This meant that her investigations had been moved from blood-soaked back alleys to well-appointed tea rooms and libraries. Having been born a Romanov, Alexandra was not exactly a stranger to such illustrious venues. But as an exile, she'd never been expected to adopt aristocratic social mores. This made her particularly conspicuous in high society. They both knew that her sudden appearance in Petersburg's upper echelons would not go unnoticed, but by teaching her to blend in as much as possible, Sebastian hoped to minimize the questions that would follow in her wake. He'd just run through the finer points of a typical English tea service and was instructing her on how a proper lady ought to hold her teacup when he realized that her eyes had been glazed over for the better part of the hour.

"Master, are you paying attention?"

"Of course not. I'm bored. And this is useless." She sighed heavily and pressed her fingers to her temple. "I'm not sure I'm cut out for this. Why don't we simply _borrow _the people we need and _coax_ the information out of them?"

"That is entirely too conspicuous. Are you completely incapable of subtlety?"

"That's rich, coming from the silverware slinging demon bodyguard." She was baiting him, he knew, but he was far too old and too clever to fall for so crude a trick.

"I'm afraid you leave me no choice. I shall have to be more forceful in my instruction then." He snapped his fingers, and immediately Alexandra's limbs went limp. She did not fall over, however, and she knew with a magician's keenness that she was now prey to his preternatural power. Her muscles were being controlled as if by invisible marionette strings. "I have a considerable amount of expertise in dealing with intransigent pupils." He spoke, but not in the matter-of-fact tone to which she'd lately grown accustomed. No, Sebastian was visibly restraining himself from laughing outright. She knew this from the tell-tale cadence of his voice. The fact that he was enjoying himself immensely at her expense only served to compound Alexandra's anger. She struggled against the enchantment to no avail. Any counter-spells she tried quickly failed as soon as the incantations left her lips. _The son-of-a-bitch planned this._

Sebastian said nothing in reply, but his eyes took on a familiar vermillion glow and she knew that he was not going to relent just yet. Alexandra's hand involuntary picked up the delicate saucer upon which her teacup rested. Her other hand curled around the cup, fingers sliding through the handle, pinky raised at an unbecomingly dainty angle. She could do nothing but watch in a mixture of horror and awe as this hand brought the cup to her lips.

_You can control my movements, but I don't have to drink, you bastard._

Her victory was short-lived. Sebastian raised his own cup to his lips, eyes aglow and lips stretched wide in mirth. "Drink, master." He took a sip of his tea, and as he did, she found her lips opening to the amber liquid in her own teacup. It was delicious, no doubt, but the means by which she imbibed it left a bitterness trailing in its wake. He replaced his teacup on his saucer and set it on the table. Alexandra was made to mimic these actions.

Sebastian snapped his fingers lazily to remove the enchantment he'd cast against her. He was then caught completely off guard as Alexandra flung the contents of her cup in his face. The tea was still rather hot and if he weren't impervious to such things, he'd have been in quite a bit of pain. As it stood, he was simply staggered. He huffed dramatically and pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket while Alexandra doubled over in laughter. _That was worth it. _He wiped his face and tutted in displeasure, dabbing at the stains on his shirt while he glared dangerously in her direction. She flashed him a triumphant grin and contemplated following up with the remainder of the pot.

"You are such a child sometimes. I wonder why I deign to serve you at all." His tone was haughty, but in all honesty, Sebastian was rather amused by her actions. Alexandra was impulsive, yes, and even reckless at times, but it was a rare phenomenon for her to be so transparent regarding her feelings when it came to him. Even when she'd betrayed her emotions in the past, she'd been quick to rationalize away the more uncharacteristic bouts of her behavior towards him. He had his suspicions about why this might be the case, but he kept these conclusions to himself, knowing that voicing them would only cause her to be more vigilant. _And she's infinitely more entertaining when she's reactive._

"You started this, Sebastian. You cast a _defixio_ against me." He merely stared at her wordlessly after having wiped the more offensive stains from his clothing. She tensed in anticipation of requital. Sebastian tossed the tea-stained handkerchief over his shoulder with one hand and threw the sugar bowl in her direction with the other. His actions were completed in one fluid movement, and on any other occasion his attack would have hit its mark. "No." But she was prepared for such retaliation, so she'd already conjured a force-field, resulting in the crystalline lumps crashing to the floor in a soft percussion. They shattered as they fell, sending grains of sugar scattering in all directions. "You're not the only one here who knows a trick or two." She arched an eyebrow in his direction. Sebastian interpreted this as an explicit challenge.

The victorious grin playing across Alexandra's lips disappeared instantly when she found herself pushed against the far wall of the library. Sebastian was looming in front of her, his long fingers pressing her shoulders gently into the wall. Surprisingly, he didn't look put out at all. Rather, mischief was etched upon his face as he regarded his prey. _This is not good. _A drop of tea still lingered at the corner of his lips and Alexandra felt a sudden and desperate urge to lean in and lick it away. She inhaled sharply at the thought and tried to clear her mind. "Seb-Sebastian, I thought I'd been clear about not touching me needlessly." He only answered in a bemused chuckle. _No. Not good at all. _It was no secret that she was attracted to him; she'd always been. He was a demon after all; it was in his nature to stir desires with nothing more than his mere presence. But now, close together as they were, with the laughter still alighting both their eyes and their lips mere inches apart, she felt her resolve die. His fingers had moved from her shoulders to the base of her neck, and she had no doubt that he could feel her pulse racing beneath them. _He can probably hear my heartbeat. _He leaned in, slowly. Alexandra knew that closing her eyes would temporarily allay the effects of his supernatural charm, but she found that she could not tear her gaze away from those lips. _If he tries anything tonight, I'm done for. _Sebastian pressed into her, hands slipping slowly from her neck to her hips. She expected the inevitable kiss to follow this closing of personal space, but he merely leaned past her, placing his lips against her ear and sending a heated tingle through her body. Alexandra didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

"I would punish you for that, master, but I daresay you would find more pleasure in my methods than disincentive. I wouldn't wish to encourage any further misbehavior."

His grip tightened slightly, causing her breath to hitch. He smiled at the reaction, relishing the fact that he'd marked her all too well in only a few months' time. It was then that a spell sent his hands flying off her as though electricity passed between them. "Stop calling me master. And no more etiquette lessons!" Alexandra stormed past him and out of the room, head shaking in irritation all the while. The last thing she heard before she slammed her bedroom door was Sebastian's rich laughter echoing up the stairwell.

* * *

'E' is for 'etiquette'. And Alexandra lacks it completely.


	6. F

NB: I admit that my word choice doesn't make for a very interesting 'F'. But like so much I've written, this story demanded its own telling.

I really hope you like this; it's a bit afield of what I'd imagined for these drabbles in terms of tone and subject, but my muse is a demanding one, and he'd been nagging me to write about Isaac for some time now. That being said, please know that the main subjects of this story are Sebastian and Alexandra, and they will remain as such for the rest of these vignettes. I thank you, once again, for your indulgence and your correspondence (of all kinds). It has brightened many a dark day.

* * *

Isaac snuffed out his cigarette in an ashtray and took a large swig of his orange juice, his mouth contorting in displeasure. The combination of tastes left a horrid bitterness on his tongue, but Alexandra had developed a very keen sense of taste during her pregnancy and the last thing he needed was his wife getting ill from a kiss because he'd been smoking. So he drank the juice without complaint, and even contemplated chewing several pieces of spearmint gum to take care of any residual nicotine. He leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed casually over the other, and took in his surroundings before turning his attention to the newspaper spread before him. Autumn in Russia had always seemed to him to be remarkably beautiful, year after year. It was like a divine gift, really—designed for no larger purpose than that of human enjoyment. He loved the gentle nip of coolness right before winter hit in full force. It was for this reason that he opted to take a table on the outdoor terrace of a tiny café in Petersburg to wait for John.

"You're smoking. That's a terrible habit for a doctor, especially one with a pregnant wife." Isaac was already lost in the day's news and hadn't seen the other man approaching. He looked up and smiled good-naturedly at his friend.

"I never smoke anywhere near my home. And I've been trying to quit, but I really love smoking in cold weather. Maybe in Spring."

"Isaac, it's freezing out here. Why can't we get a table inside?" John pulled his trenchcoat more tightly around his shoulders and fixed his companion with a look of utter disbelief.

Isaac laughed. It was a full-bodied chuckle that caused John's heart to twist in a matter not entirely unpleasant. "Where's your sense of adventure? The Russian autumn is glorious. Far preferable to the English one, I'm sure."

"Right." The exorcist shook his head and sat down in the chair opposite the doctor, gratefully accepting the hot cup of coffee that was pushed towards him. Isaac's green eyes wandered over the other man in an appraising fashion, no doubt making a doctor's deductions.

"You look terrible. Let's go inside." He'd started gathering up his things but John slapped his palm on top of Isaac's, the sensation of their hands touching sending a jolt through his body.

"It's a cold. I'm fine. Who knows when we'll get to enjoy the Russian autumn again, right? It's so _glorious_ after all." Actually, John had been violently ill from the flu for the last several days, but he couldn't bring himself to cancel their meeting. He'd never deny anything the doctor requested. They'd been friends since their university days. They'd roomed together for three years until Isaac and Alexandra decided to get married. Isaac had long moved out, but John remained in their old apartment in Petersburg. The other man often asked why he'd not moved into more comfortable accommodations, but the exorcist merely attributed it to his own laziness. In truth, however, he couldn't bear to leave all those memories. And that is precisely why he showed up to a tiny Petersburg café in the near-freezing cold even while running a fever.

Isaac didn't argue but merely raised an inquisitive eyebrow in the other's direction. John realized that the doctor could feel the fever's heat in his palm so he quickly removed his hand. "Okay. But if you get too cold, we're going inside." He grinned broadly and took another sip of orange juice. "Doctor's orders."

John nodded, knowing he wouldn't go inside even if he should develop frostbite in his extremities. "So, what did you call me here for?"

"Yes. That." Isaac's typically sunny demeanor clouded at the mention of business. "I'm going to South America again." John had opened his mouth in protest, but Isaac only held up his hand in a gesture uncannily reminiscent of Alexandra at her most commanding and imperious. "I know, I know. I heard it from Sasha when I got back last time. But I have to do this. They need doctors, particularly experts in infectious disease. Most of my colleagues can't afford to go, but since I have a great deal of expendable income thanks to a very advantageous marriage, I can't afford to _not _go."

"Does Alex know?"

"That I married her for the money? Absolutely. I'm told she married me because she felt it would be charitable." He grinned again, hoping his easy-going affability would soften the look on his companion's face. It _almost_ worked.

"No. Does she know that you're going to a place overrun with an infectious disease of an unknown type in order to sacrifice yourself on the altar of humanitarianism?" John's voice had grown hard and serious. His friend retained his cheerfulness despite this.

"The 'altar of humanitarianism'? You exorcists are so dramatic. Yes, she knows. She's not at all happy about it, but she's agreed if I make this the last trip."

"Is it the last trip?"

Isaac's eyes widened in surprise at the accusation implicit in the question. In fact, he was rather affronted. "Of course it is. Do you honestly think I'd miss my son's birth? That I'd break my word to my wife?"

Despite these assurances, John wanted desperately to upend the table. _How many times will you put yourself at risk? Don't you give a damn about those you leave behind? _But after a breath or two he found that his irritation had melted into something too closely resembling sorrow. He relented. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to imply that you'd shirk your duties to your family in favor of your work."

"I wouldn't. And that's why I'm here." Isaac flashed a toothy smile, knowing what it cost John to refrain from voicing what he'd like to say. "Would you mind dropping by the house from time to time to check in on Sasha? She's in great health, so it's nothing to worry over. I know Yuri would take care of everything, but I don't like the thought of her walking around in that huge house with only her guardian for company."

_Yes. I would mind very much, Isaac. _John sighed. It wasn't that he didn't like Alexandra. He did, very much in fact. She was funny and quick-witted, and an inordinately skilled colleague. They always exchanged information and magical knowledge whenever they met. It was that he didn't think she was deserving of Isaac. Not really. She'd always seemed to be entirely too haughty, too elitist to be a match for a good-natured man from humble origins like Isaac. He supposed it was a defect of the aristocracy that their proclivities towards elitism were inversely proportional to their actual political or social power. The Romanovs had been deposed decades ago, but Alexandra had never learned the humility that should accompany dethronement. If she had, she'd never have hooked her unworthy claws into Isaac.

"Of course I will." The exorcist huffed again, completely forgetting that his companion could see him. In response, Isaac's own disposition hardened into something sharper.

"John, I have no idea why you don't like Sasha. She's been nothing but welcoming towards you. If I didn't know better, I would think you were in love with her. If you're bothered too much by it, I can ask someone else." He was disappointed; he'd rather entrust Alexandra to John than anyone else, although he knew how horrified she'd be at the thought of his treating her like some impotent damsel in distress. _Well, I suppose she's more than capable of looking after herself. I should put more faith in her abilities. _

"It's not her." The words were a whisper. Isaac had to strain to catch them.

"Excuse me?"

"It's not her. It's you. I'm in love with _you_." He'd not raised his voice at all, and Isaac would have thought that he'd mis-heard if he'd not been making the extra effort to pay attention. The exorcist's eyes were now trained on the ground. "I've always been." He bore no resemblance to the belligerent, expansive John that Isaac had known in college, nor to the harder, more caustic John of late. To him, John looked defeated and altogether too old for his years.

Isaac didn't know precisely how to respond, so he said nothing immediately. It wasn't that he couldn't have guessed. There were very small indications of John's feelings in the past, and he'd certainly seen less and less of the other man since the wedding. The pieces had been there all along; the doctor simply disregarded the pattern etched upon them. But now that he'd put everything together neatly, he realized that he'd never wanted to be wrong so badly. Nothing he said would provide one whit of comfort to a man he considered one of his closest friends. It was inevitable that John would be hurt. "I suspect you know this, but I'm not….well, gay."

John barked a sarcastic laugh and pressed an exasperated hand to his temple. _No kidding_. "Well, I'm not gay either, Isaac." There was a dangerous mocking in his voice that caused the hairs on the back of the doctor's neck to stand up. "As a matter of fact, I think that wife of yours is pretty attractive, and you'd have had some competition back in college if I weren't more interested in bedding you than her." He let out another sharp bark. He sounded positively frightening when he laughed like that, and Isaac found that he could now fully feel the weight of autumn's chill. John was just teetering on the edge of saying something that would leave an irreparable tear in the fabric of their friendship. Isaac could weather a great deal of vitriol; he was a doctor, after all. He would not, however, brook any disrespect towards his family, so he endeavored to stop John before the other man said something that would later give cause for regret.

"John—"

"Still don't get it? Shall I put it into clinical terms then, _doctor_? I'm bi-sex-u-al. Clear enough for you?"

"That is not what's at issue here, and you know it." He pressed his fingers to his temples. A nascent headache had just formed under his fingertips. He'd grown so tired all of the sudden. Even so, he leaned forward and looked directly into John's pale blue eyes. He'd have liked to stay cross with him for being so rude, but the pain reflected in his face made it difficult. This only compounded the feeling of helplessness that Isaac felt in the face of the world's suffering. For every cut or bruise he healed, a million others would not receive proper attention. For every rampant illness that he helped to contain, a dozen new ones would spring up and spread unchecked. And every kiss he shared with Alexandra was like a splinter working its way into his friend's heart, apparently. _Well, I just keep failing, don't I? _He felt decades older than his twenty-nine years in that moment, but he softened his expression and spoke the only words he could:

"I'm so very, very sorry John. It must have been awful for you all these years." A sad, sad smile alighted his lips for the briefest of moments. "If it's any consolation, you should know that I'm undeserving of your love, or Sasha's for that matter." He reached out and took the other man's hand, not knowing if the gesture would bring solace or heartbreak, but he felt an inexplicable need to make known the strength of the sentiment behind his words. "You know that you will always have my friendship, but I'm afraid that's all I can offer."

John yanked his hand out of Isaac's grasp rather more forcefully than was necessary. He up abruptly and dusted himself off as if to dust off the lingering bits of their conversation. The impassivity with which he molded his expression required entirely too much effort, but he couldn't bring himself to hate the other man, although he knew that hate was an easier emotion to process than the alternative. He was surprisingly heartsick, even though he'd known for quite some time that his feelings were unrequited. Hearing Isaac confirm this had been more difficult than he expected, and if pressed, he would not be able to articulate why he felt the need to make such a poorly-timed confession at all. _Maybe I'm just afraid he won't come back this time. _He closed his eyes momentarily, searching for the appropriate words, and finally looked down at his friend. "Yes. Friendship. It's for that reason that I'll look after Alex while you're gone. Just get back in one piece, okay? I'm not sure either of us would be the same without you."

John turned on his heel and walked away without giving Isaac time to respond. The latter lit another cigarette as he watched his friend's retreating form. He was going to need more orange juice.

* * *

'F' is for 'friendship'. Sometimes it sucks.

AN: I know some of you might be thinking that John was a little in love with Alexandra since he tells her that he'd never compete with Sebastian for her affections in 'Fidelitas' (and that whole sex thing). You can interpret that in two ways: (1) He was itching for a fight with Sebastian, so he baited the demon by appealing to his possessiveness. (2) Your lackluster author hadn't fully developed John's character at the time and thus left his feelings for Alexandra ambiguous.

If you choose the second interpretation, you should know that later it seemed more compelling to me that he was in love with Isaac and that he thought Alexandra unworthy. This better explains why he's so incredibly brutal to her in 'Fidelitas,' and why he's particularly concerned not so much with having her as he is with punishing her and/or defiling her. After all, if he loved her, he'd have been a bit kinder, no? And of course his attitude towards her would grow even more aggressive after Isaac's death (particularly since he could so easily blame Alexandra for it). Of course, his feelings towards her aren't *all* negative, as you guys well know.

Your thoughts are especially appreciated here. Let me know if this works. If not, I can write another 'F'. My knowledge of F-words is quite remarkable, I assure you. Goodnight everyone!


	7. F Redux

NB: Think of this as free fluff for those of you who might have been disappointed by the last chapter.

I'm tempted to warn of OOCness on the part of Sebastian here, but I daresay he's not OOC by the manga's standards. I distinctly remember his inordinate love of cats. Oh, and I don't own Kuroshitsuji.

Hey, pammazola, thanks for being my muse on this. And BskiT, I freaking love you. Seriously.

* * *

Alexandra watched Sebastian from the mullioned window of the library. She had hidden herself behind the half-closed shutters, carefully remaining in the shadows so that she could see without being seen. Sebastian was…well, he was _adorable_. She'd never seen him quite like this. He'd run across a cat on the grounds and was now lovingly crouched over it, practically nursing it by hand with milk from a saucer. A goofy grin was plastered to his face, and she'd have taken a candid photograph if she didn't know that he'd not be caught on film at all. Nevertheless, seeing him so unguarded was the strangest thing she'd encountered since the time he'd decided that the ballroom was better suited to a gauntlet of magical booby traps than it was mosaic floors and fine art. Training, he'd called it. Then she had ordered him to set things right. She smiled fondly at the memory. Honestly, witnessing the more human whims of her demon left her with an inexplicable unease in the pit of her stomach. Her Sebastian was expedient and ruthless, an expert assassin with a cold-blooded mentality to match. But as she watched him through the window, she was once again struck by how unbelievably _normal_ he seemed. She scrubbed her face, as though by doing so she could disillusion herself about the creature outside who was now allowing a stray cat to claw at him mercilessly as he delightedly ran his long fingers through its fur. _It's a good thing you're immune to infection, you idiot._

It was then that she'd noticed the striking resemblance between the demon and the feline. Both were raven-haired and had fathoms deep eyes that shone scarlet in the sunlight. Sebastian had always seemed to her to be feliform in nature. He moved with a fluid precision that could seem either dangerous or sexy depending on his mood. Even his voice became a purr in certain situations—situations which typically involved his trying to put Alexandra off her guard. And like the cat outside her window, her demon had the uncanny ability to attract attention like a flame draws a moth. She also suspected that his lacquered fingernails would become claws if he were feeling threatened or particularly frisky.

These observations were cut short by Yuri's approaching footsteps. Sebastian clearly heard them as well, even through all the obstructions. He looked up at the house in the direction of the library, but Alexandra knew that his line of sight was blocked by the shutters so she stayed put. _Oh, so you've no compunctions about spying, but you don't like being spied upon? _He stalked off, leaving the disgruntled feline in his wake. It looked after him helplessly. Alexandra half expected him to turn back.

"You're always smirking like than when you're up to no good. What have you done?"

She chuckled. Yuri was a remarkable man who always saw too much. Indeed, she'd purchased the cat and let it loose on the grounds, knowing that Sebastian wouldn't be able to resist its charms. Alexandra had grown rather tired of the demon getting the better of her at every turn. Sebastian's supernatural powers likely outstripped her own, and she was sure that he'd be impervious to all of her feminine wiles if she should try to seduce him in the same way that he often tried to seduce her. _Not that I have any intention of finishing what I start anyway. _As such, she was left with few options in terms of exerting any sort of control over him. She could have ordered him to do whatever she liked, of course, but Alexandra much preferred the challenge of compelling his obeisance without resorting to explicit commands.

"The other day he pushed me against the wall."

Yuri raised a cautionary eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Relax. I'd thrown a cup of tea in his face." She had to restrain herself from laughing hysterically at the mere memory of the flabbergasted look on Sebastian's face when she did that.

"I'd have paid to see that."

"And it would have been worth any price, I assure you. Anyway, shortly after I returned to my bedroom, I started sneezing uncontrollably. When I removed my clothes, I saw cat hair on my sweater. It was all I needed to put two and two together."

"He'd been feeding the stray cats on the property. How _interesting_." There was a touch of bemusement in her guardian's voice and Alexandra knew that they had both hit upon the same implications.

"Indeed."

"But I thought I'd rounded up all the strays on the grounds and taken them to the shelter."

"I bought one back."

"Why would you do that when you're allergic? Surely, you aren't naïve enough to believe you can bribe him with a pet. He's a demon. He's probably fattening it up so he can eat it."

She laughed at that. Yuri was a remarkable man, yes, but one with a terrible sense of humor. But he'd not seen what she had. No, Sebastian was being _affectionate. _It was a characteristic she never expected him to possess, and she knew with relative certainty that his affection would only make its appearance on very rare occasions. It was a small, almost insignificant thing. But it was his only tell so far, and she was determined to manipulate it to her advantage.

"Because the next time he puts a toe out of line, I'm going to threaten to take it back to the shelter." She laughed evilly. _I wonder if he heard that_, she thought. And then she realized that it mattered very little if he heard since he'd so obviously grown attached to the little beast. _ How's it feel to be in check, Sebastian? _

Yuri simply gaped in disbelief. His ward had driven to the city, bought an animal that made her sneezy and stuffy, let it loose on her estate—all of this simply to achieve the tiniest bit of leverage over her contracted demon. Furthermore, she was treating this slight, temporary advantage as some hard-won war victory. He shook his head. _This is the most ineffective plan you've ever come up with.  
_

"What?" She looked at him indignantly. "At least I didn't threaten to kill it. Or to eat it."

He merely shrugged. "You know, Sasha, sometimes I feel like the two of you really deserve each other." He walked off, head still shaking in disapproval. "You're both fools," he said once out of earshot.

Alexandra remained happily oblivious. She recommenced gazing out the window, smiling mischievously at her new unwitting ally which was now gamboling amongst the shrubbery. _Maybe we do._

* * *

'F' is for 'feline' or 'feliform' or 'free fluff'. You decide.


	8. G

NB: Your author has had a few glasses of Prosecco and a few hours of Hellsing Ultimate. This chapter is a crossover of sorts. Have you ever wondered what the hell Alexandra and Sebastian would do if they met Integra and Alucard? I have, and the result is most definitely a crack!fic.

This chapter is dedicated to BskiT, who challenged me to write something completely off the wall.

Don't worry if you're not familiar with Hellsing. You'll get to see jealous!Sebastian and intimidated!Alexandra. I'd like to think that's worth the read.

* * *

Alexandra paced along the beautifully-appointed office of the one and only Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing, Knight of the British Round Table and Director of the Hellsing Organization, an institution dedicated to the eradication of supernatural threats to the throne. Typically, Alexandra had no reason to keep up with British nobility. After all, she'd never bothered keeping up with the Russian nobility and it seemed in pretty poor practice to endear oneself to foreigners before fellow countrymen. That being said, Integra Hellsing was notoriously well-informed about the magical underground, and since Alexandra was hunting down the devotees of one of the most powerful magicians in recent history, she thought it couldn't hurt to interrogate all sources of information. As such, she'd dispatched a hand-written request for a meeting with Sir Hellsing when her trail for Rasputin's more powerful magical descendants went cold somewhere west of Romania. _No matter, _she thought to herself, _I'll hunt you in all corners of the world if I have to. _

She'd asked Sebastian to Cloak himself thoroughly before they arrived at Hellsing Headquarters, knowing that an organization so steeped in the occult would have no trouble discerning his true nature. The last thing she needed was a British secret agency trying to requisition her demon for combat against rogue otherworldly entities. Sebastian was hers, and hers alone. A dark laugh reverberated in the spacious chamber as soon as she'd formed the thought. Apparently, the injunctions she'd placed against Sebastian's mind-reading had been ineffective. On the contrary, he seemed to be enjoying himself thoroughly at her expense.

_When we get home, Sebastian, I'm going to—_

"You should know, Your Grace, that he'd probably enjoy whatever you have planned." It was then that she realized that the laughing did not belong to her dutiful bodyguard. Sebastian's voice was almost melodious. In contrast, this one was a deep rumbling tinged with mystery and danger. She nearly started, but kept herself from expressing her alarm outright. "Tie him up, whip him, douse him with holy water if you please, and all of it will only serve his pleasure. His kind crave pain."

He materialized from the darkness then, tall and regal, dressed in a charcoal suit and riding boots. He'd have passed for British aristocracy himself were it not for the floppy fedora and garish overcoat, both blood red in color—she could see these items without difficulty although his face remained in shadow. Here was a man who wished to be noticed. Even his orange-tinted sunglasses seemed to serve only the purpose of ostentation. _Well, that and his exceedingly informal manner, _Alexandra thought. She was unnerved by his ability to read her thoughts so precisely. By his address, it was obvious that he'd discovered her identity as well. Sebastian typically had to work to invade his master's consciousness, but this man seemed to have picked her mind effortlessly. "And who do I have the pleasure of addressing?" she asked in as haughty a tone as she could manage. He was no human, of that she was certain. And he was powerful, very powerful. She could feel as much even from across the room.

"I am called Alucard." He bowed slightly after removing his ridiculous hat. "And I assure you that I'd be a worthier object of your more violent…_fetishes_ than this Sebastian of yours." Heavy footsteps thudded slowly across the carpeted room as he approached her. When he came into the light, she nearly gasped. He was pale, exceedingly so, and his wild raven hair seemed to be _alive_ as it swirled around his face in the breezeless room. _I was right. He's not human. _Alucard removed his glasses then, revealing bright red eyes that shone with the intensity of hellfire. _They're even brighter than Sebastian's_, she thought as she reached up and took his proffered hand. He grinned impishly as he placed a kiss on the back of her palm. She bit back her fear, surprised that she could feel afraid at all after the horrors she'd witnessed.

There was a slight tingle on the nape of her neck, reassuring her that her ever-vigilant bodyguard was prepared for a fight if needed. _Careful, master. He's a vampire. _She heard Sebastian's velvet whisper in her mind and nodded her acknowledgment. _Most would not seek direct attention, but this one clearly revels in it._ Irritation underscored his words. If it weren't for their presence in the home of a complete stranger, she'd have laughed hysterically at the implications contained therein.

_There's no need to be jealous, Sebastian_, she chided, not knowing if he could hear. The contours of a wonderfully wicked game were taking shape in her mind, and she decided then that she'd have a bit of fun. It was high time she re-established her authority anyway. She smirked at her demon, but it was Alucard who received the smile. He grinned back at her, long fangs lending a menace to his leer that Sebastian would no doubt find vulgar. He would most definitely be a willing playmate.

"I'm Alexandra," she said, infusing her voice with a touch of breathiness. She politely inclined her head to him, ignoring the cold shiver that Sebastian's incorporeal fingers were sending along her spine.

"Alexandra. Greek for 'defender of men'. Considering that _he _is hiding and you're offering your hand to a vampire, I must agree that you are indeed a defender of men...amongst other things." He smiled more widely, and if it weren't for the razor sharp canines just visible above his lips and the mad gleam in his irises, Alexandra would have found herself entranced. As it stood, she didn't need to rely on her magical powers to know that this Alucard was a beautiful menace, a whirlwind of chaos and peril who took the form of seduction personified. She knew his type too well. "And he has _every_ reason to be jealous, my dear," he purred as he slipped closer still, a gloved hand trailing from her palm to encircle her wrist. It inched slowly up her arm, finally coming to rest at her shoulder. Alexandra felt a chill under her skin where his palm rested atop her clothing, but she retained her coquettish manner for the benefit of the demon concealed somewhere behind her.

Unfortunately, said demon was not satisfied with remaining concealed. Sebastian materialized, a smoky mist surrounding his master and instantly transporting her out of the immediate vicinity of the other man. "My master doesn't like to be touched," he said, being uncharacteristically obvious about the fact that he'd just greeted the vampire with an unnecessary show of power. His eyes burned with a rage that was carefully being held in check. He'd love nothing more than to rip Alucard to shreds, she knew, but until she gave an order to do so, he'd play the part of the dutiful bodyguard flawlessly. Admittedly, she rather enjoyed watching his composure crumble in such situations.

"Well, aren't you an obedient little boy," Alucard drawled, the words curling around his tongue in unashamed relish. Sebastian didn't snarl precisely, but he certainly made a noise of threat towards the other man. She could feel the dark energy radiating from him like the delicate beating of hummingbird's wings. _It's unlike him to respond so fiercely to a little pressure. _Things were getting very interesting indeed.

"How presumptuous. I'd walked the earth for millennia before you were even conceived. In contrast, you're little more than a wretched parasite. I serve my master, yes, but I do not _borrow _my powers from the humans I devoured." He let out a satisfied _hmph_ before tugging at his gloves impatiently. Alexandra placed a stalling hand on his chest. Having her bodyguard destroy her host's home would be ungrateful at the very least. She had no doubt Sir Hellsing would not easily forgive such a transgression.

"Relax Sebastian. I was simply greeting Mr. Alucard here. There is no need to be rude." She thought briefly about ordering the demon apologize, but then she realized that he'd make her life a living Hell (quite literally) for the tenure of their contract if she should contrive such a humiliation.

Sebastian fully resumed his anthropomorphic form and bowed dutifully, if a bit reluctantly. "Of course, master."

Alucard's roaring chuckle cut through the ensuing quiet. "Borrowed power is still power. But I don't expect you to understand that. You're nothing but a tame pet, after all." He had worked himself into a mass of maniacal spasms of laughter when his self-entertainment was cut short by a sharp, commanding voice coming from the entrance to the office.

"Alucard, what are you doing here?" He stopped cackling immediately. Sir Hellsing finally strode in, her long blonde hair flowing and her azure eyes flashing dangerously behind wire-rimmed glasses. Her androgynous clothing and brusque manner only contributed to the air of authority surrounding her. _Of course the master of such a powerful monster would command respect_, Alexandra thought, trying in vain to ignore the other monster—the green-eyed sort—which was now creeping along her skin. _She is in such perfect control of him. _

"You were so unforgivably late, master. I ventured a greeting in your absence. It would be rude to leave a lady alone," he said slickly. "I am a gentleman, as you know. And our guest is so..._interesting._" He bowed mockingly to Integra. She merely huffed nonchalantly as if she'd been contending with his particular brand of insubordination for so long that she'd become inured to it.

"She's not been alone. Unlike you, I do not stray from my master's side," Sebastian said in a tone just bordering on this edge of condescending. Alexandra rolled her eyes in Integra's direction as if to apologize for her own servant's discourtesy. Alucard merely lengthened his sneer. The resultant exchange of increasingly threatening looks between the two men was completely ignored by the women.

"My apologies for my tardiness, Your Grace," Integra nodded slightly to her guest, "I've been held up in a meeting."

Alexandra offered a crooked smile in response. She was a little unsure of herself in front of such a commanding presence. "Please don't call me 'Your Grace.' It's unnecessary and wholly inaccurate, I fear. Call me Alex." She offered her hand to the other woman. Integra walked forward and shook it confidently. "And don't worry about the delay. I'm sure you have many things to attend," she spoke sadly, like she regretted not having dedicated her own life to something more worthwhile than her single-minded quest for revenge.

Sebastian might have imagined it, distracted as he was by the oafish vampire, but he could have sworn that Alexandra felt inadequate in the presence of Integra Hellsing. He'd rarely felt her confidence falter. This new development alarmed him. He watched the other woman move to her desk, determined to find a weakness if only for his master's sake.

"Oh, please don't fret your pretty little head, Your Grace. My master may seem to you to be quite the capable leader, but I'm afraid there are many things she lacks." _This mindreading business is getting bothersome, _Alexandra thought tiredly. Alucard sauntered forth again, his lanky frame positively looming over her as he invaded every millimeter of her personal space. She could feel Sebastian tense—it was like a dense, cold fog had settled upon them. Even Integra looked to him in interest. _You've given yourself away, Sebastian. Damnit. _She felt suddenly exhausted, but she merely held up her hand to stop her demon from doing anything rash. He'd already done enough. Looking up at Alucard, she determined that she alone should deal with the vampire. It would not do to display weakness when she had come asking for help. He ignored her mental warning and continued: "For example, you are not uninitiated in matters of carnal pleasure, if I'm not mistaken."

"Alucard!"

"Vampire!"

Both Integra and Sebastian had screamed in unison. The vampire merely chuckled, supremely entertained by the fact that he'd so easily upset everyone in the room. Alexandra said nothing at first, lips stretched wide in indulgence. When she spoke, she'd removed all uncertainty from her tone. "I am no uninitiated novice in many matters, Alucard." She brought a hand to rest against his chest and leaned in closer, allowing him to feel the supernatural energy transmitted through her touch. His eyes widened momentarily as he registered the transfer of power, but he said nothing and did not remove her hand, not knowing that she too could extract deeply personal information under certain circumstances. "Or should I call you Vlad?" She sighed heavily for effect. "No, no. That won't do. A man of your stature would prefer Count, correct?" The smirk fell from his face briefly before he replaced it. He then snickered in that amused way of his. "Now, if you're quite finished, I have some business with your master." Alexandra stalked off, leaving the vampire staring after her in some strange combination of annoyance and respect. Sebastian was impressed. His master had managed to put the beast in his place without so much as a binding spell. _Maybe I've underestimated her. _

Integra motioned to the seat in front of her desk, blue eyes sparkling mischievously from behind her spectacles. Grey plumes curled from the end of her cigar as she trained her gaze on the woman now sitting opposite her. "You've done your research."

"Of course. I would never walk into Hellsing Headquarters without first assessing the situation," Alexandra lied smoothly. She shook her head to decline the cigar that was offered her. "My apologies for my undue familiarity towards your servant, Sir Hellsing."

Integra laughed at that. It was a deep, almost sultry chuckle and Alexandra wondered if the woman had indeed never had a lover. _She'd certainly have no problem getting one, _she thought. And then she mentally cursed herself, knowing that the vampire had doubtless conjured images of the three of them in a range of compromising positions. Alucard laughed again, confirming these suspicions. Alexandra pinched the bridge of her nose. _We need to leave. Soon. _

"I've assembled the information you requested. I hope it's helpful." Integra slid a folder across her desk to Alexandra, who thanked her before flipping it open to peruse the contents. She was just about to prompt for more details when the various noises issuing from behind them became too disruptive to disregard. Apparently the servants had not been content to allow their masters converse without interruption. Alexandra whirled around to find wisps of inky smoke rolling off her demon, his pupils snake-like slits focused on the vampire in front of him. _Not good._

"Sebastian, what the Hell?"

"Stay out of this, master. This irredeemable lout has just shown me his depraved thoughts."

"You don't give orders. So I'll ask you again: What do you think you're doing?"

"You should see the images he's conjured of you and Sir Hellsing. They're abominable. He means to defile you both." Somehow she doubted that Sebastian found any of Alucard's intentions distasteful, _per se_. They'd only be distasteful to him since they'd not sprung from his own twisted mind. He was, after all, an inordinately possessive creature - and certainly no stranger to depravity. _Oh, I see. This is you being a gentleman. This is not an aggressive display of a pathological need for ownership. _Alexandra would have been amused if she didn't suspect that Sebastian's penchant for destruction was directly proportional to his covetousness. _  
_

"I'd rather not see, if you don't mind. But I have no doubt that you've characterized them correctly." Integra spoke to the two of them from her chair, cigar dangling casually from her lips, long legs crossed atop the desk. "Alucard can be…_gauche_." Her eyes flashed warningly at her own servant, the curve of her lips suggesting that she was rather enjoying the fact that he was about to be seriously maimed by an equally powerful being.

"I'll not allow you to insult my master." Sebastian had become a formless shadow that filled the room, his glowing eyes alone giving away his position.

"Damnit, Sebastian. Will you just calm down?" _I shouldn't have baited him by flirting with the vampire, _she thought. _He's like a child who has just had his toy taken away.__  
_

"Oh, Your Grace, you should never regret _any_ interaction with me." Alucard said smoothly. He seemed to be itching for a fight, although Alexandra suspected that he was the type that was _always_ itching for a fight. Clearly he was trying to exacerbate the situation via every means available. He looked at her again, wide smile now displaying every last one of his sharp, shark-like teeth. Alexandra wondered briefly what those teeth were capable of. His next words were shot through with wicked delight. "The better to _eat _you with, my dear."

A number of things happened in quick succession immediately after that. Sebastian had come into possession of Integra's silver letter opener by Summoning it from her desk. Alucard had drawn two impossibly large handguns and pointed them between Sebastian's eyes. The letter opener that the demon flung towards the vampire's heart crashed against the force-field that Alexandra conjured and clattered to the floor. At the same time, Integra emptied her handgun into her charge, putting enough bullet holes in him to cause him to slink to the ground. Alexandra and Integra looked at each other curiously, ignoring Sebastian's disappointed huff and Alucard's angry hissing.

"What a useful trick. You're no ordinary human, are you?" Integra inquired, eyebrow arched in surprise.

"I'm an exorcist."

"And you've contracted a demon. How ironic."

"Yes."

"You're fast."

"I'm in the habit of producing force-fields around Sebastian. He's inordinately fond of projectile weapons."

"Indeed." Integra hesitated, the ghost of a smile alighting her lips. "Alucard was right. You _are_ interesting."

Alexandra laughed. "That's rich, coming from a woman who just shot a vampire like it was nothing."

Integra lifted her hand, displaying her firearm. "These are blessed silver bullets. Like you, I stay prepared. Unfortunately they won't cause him any permanent damage, but they're quite useful as a disciplinary mechanism. I can't have him demolishing my workspace."

She was about to point out the six bullet holes that now decorated Sir Hellsing's wall, but opted not to mention it. Her own home had seen plenty of comparable damage, after all. "I see." Alucard stood up then, and while he was physically unharmed, he did seem completely put out. Alexandra rendered her next thoughts as clearly as she could. _You were saying something about your master's shortcomings, Alucard? _He growled at her in genuine displeasure then, only to come face to face with Sebastian, who'd insinuated himself between the recovered vampire and his master.

"We should leave, Sebastian. We've caused enough trouble here." Alexandra gathered the papers off Integra's desk, feeling a great deal of regret at not having more time to converse with this most intriguing woman. She had no doubt that they had much in common, but it seemed that the path she'd chosen to walk did not afford her any opportunities to forge friendships. _Well, _she thought, _Sebastian doesn't like to share anyway. _"Thank you, Sir Hellsing. I'm very grateful for your assistance."

"It's Integra," the other woman said good-naturedly. "And please call the next time you're in London. We could use your expertise."

"Yes do," Alucard repeated his master's invitation, his recent ordeal having been forgotten, his former bravado fully intact. "I would so love to see..._more _of you…"

Alexandra didn't hesitate. "Sebastian, I order you to take us home now." Sebastian could do nothing but comply.

* * *

'G' is for 'gentleman'. And neither Sebastian nor Alucard can claim to be one.

AN: I hope you enjoyed this. I was tempted to delete the whole damn thing because I thought it too absurd, but I thought better of it when I realized that this story contains such ridiculous elements as a tea-drenched demon and an arachnophobic exorcist (She battles _demons_, for God's sake, and she's terrified of spiders!). A lewd vampire seemed to be the next logical step. I don't know that Alucard is completely in character, but I took his penchant for causing trouble and ran with it.


	9. H

NB: This is for those of you who've asked for a bit of Sebastian's history. This was a difficult write. I hope it is marginally satisfying. Oh, and I hope you're not wedded to any particular theology, because with this story I've likely guaranteed myself a catered trip to Hell.

Hey guys, you know what would be awesome? It would be awesome if some of you who've not spoken up would leave a review or send me a PM. I try to do something new with each of these vignettes, and I'm not always sure that they work. As a writer, I want to get as much feedback as possible. So please, take a minute to tell me what you like about this series so far, what you don't like about it, or if you think I shouldn't quit my day job. Thanks.

As always, I am eternally grateful to those of you who have left reviews, faves, alerts, or PMs. You are too kind.

* * *

He'd been called Sariel then – when the world was new, before Eve partook of the forbidden fruit, before Eden had been forever closed to the children of men, before the Serpent had conspired against Creation to salve his wounded pride, before the Serpent had become a Serpent even. Prior to abandoning his angelic name for a demonic one that was now uttered in hushed fear, he'd been called Sariel. And even then he was excruciatingly beautiful. Whispers followed in his wake, the other inhabitants of Heaven admiring his glossy ebony hair and eyes like fire. Angels typically had hair the color of sunlight; Sariel was unique in this regard, and his singularity left his name on many angelic lips. But these were not whispers of desire or envy. Angels cannot feel such things, or at least they should not have, back then, back when the world was new. No, these were whispers of celebration, of camaraderie. They felt an inexplicable swelling in their chests when he passed, a rapturous joy when he stopped to speak. Sariel was one of the Seraphim, after all, those most beloved by God, the only ones allowed in the Presence. And he was beloved by all.

Heaven had been a glistening city crafted in eternal light before the Fall, before Satan's scheming had given the divine realm need for gates and gatekeepers. Gleaming towers rose magnificently into the sky, their crystalline surfaces shimmering pale pink in the light emanating from the Throne, their apexes beyond the range of even angelic eyes. The sky resembled an eternal dusk, bathing the city in soft hues of orange and gold. White-winged beings flitted to and fro as they conducted their business. These denizens were as luminescent as the structures surrounding them. Indeed, Heaven was a bustling metropolis populated by perfect citizens, a city whose collective heart beat in synchrony with that of the God who made it.

Sariel returned to the place he'd designated as his home – for even angels need dwelling-places when they are not about their work. It was just outside of the city, a low structure crafted from the same pearly stones that made up those radiant towers. He'd built it himself, taking a great deal of satisfaction in placing the stones precisely where they might best catch the effulgence of the city's center. He'd called a 'labor of love', and when he completed it, it resembled something akin to a human's greenhouse. Sariel had even amassed quite a collection of the Earth's flora. The Seraphim had been asked to oversee Creation in its nascence, and during one of his few forays to the world of man, he found himself spellbound by the dizzying variety of blooms. There were flowers of brightest pink and deepest blue, colors that were perhaps too harsh for the Eternal City, but Sariel loved them anyway. They'd been made by his Lord, after all. And all his Lord's creations were sublimely beautiful. On Earth they'd been stunning, no doubt, but here in Heaven when cultivated by an angel in the light of the Throne, they were like precious jewels sparkling in the sunlight.

A lone figure stood before his favorite of these plants, the hellebore, and absentmindedly ran one elegant finger along the outer rim of a pale lavender petal. Sariel beamed. Lucifer was perhaps the most resplendent thing he'd ever seen, and as a Seraphim, Sariel was privy to the whole of Heaven. Like all the other angels, Lucifer's hair was gold, but unlike them, his shining curls seemed to glow from within rather than simply reflect the city's incandescence. Indeed, his whole body seemed emit a light unique to him—Sariel could pick out its particular hue amongst a multitude of dazzling heavenly creatures. Lucifer seemed taller than the others too, and his wings were longer. Everyone said that he was the most beautiful of all God's angels, and that every minute aspect of his form was lovingly crafted to perfection. But Sariel wasn't everyone, and Sariel loved his eyes most of all. They were a pale purple, precisely the shade of the hellebore petal that he now caressed. In fact, he had domesticated that particular variety of man's plant simply because the color so perfectly matched Lucifer's eyes. It was like having a part Lucifer with him even whilst he was away.

Sariel strode forward and wrapped his arms low around Lucifer's waist, placing his forehead against the other's back between his wing joints. He sighed contentedly, inhaling his lover's scent, relishing his proximity.

"I've missed you," he said, satisfied merely to be with his beloved.

"Hellebore." Lucifer's attention remained on the flower under his fingertips. "This is deadly to those humans."

"Perhaps, but we are not human." Sariel was looking over the other's shoulder now, his chin resting in the crook of his companion's neck. Lucifer continued examining the hellebore.

"Yes, but it makes one wonder, does it not?" His voice had lately developed a hard edge, as if it concealed dark thoughts that one should only speak in the shadow lands just beyond the city. Sariel could not determine exactly when the change occurred and he felt a pang of guilt for not having been more attentive.

"Wonder what, my love?"

"Why our Lord would fritter away His love on creatures so weak." There was a hint of a growl in the words that the brunette did his best to ignore.

"It is not for us to pass judgment on His works, Lucifer." He said in as mollifying a tone as he could manage. "Besides, the color of this particular flower is magnificent, whether it is poisonous or not. Isn't that reason enough for its existence?"

"Why not violets, then?" Lucifer queried distractedly. Something was upsetting him, Sariel knew, but he was fearful of incurring the other's displeasure so he did not press the matter.

Lucifer could be fickle; Sariel knew this too well.

_Because your eyes are not the color of violets. _"Perhaps I'll acquire some the next time I venture to Earth," he said, hoping that his cheerful tone would ease the blonde's mood. He placed a swift kiss on the back of Lucifer's neck. Lucifer smiled, but Sariel could not see that his smile carried a malice entirely incongruent with his beauteous countenance.

"When I sit on the Throne, you shall have all the violets you desire, and you will not have to venture anywhere to get them," he said with a fierce determination. He slipped out of Sariel's arms and turned to face him, his hellebore-colored eyes flashing from underneath flaxen ringlets. He placed a palm against the brunette's cheek, causing a delightful warmth to spread throughout his body.

"The Throne?" Sariel could not hide his alarm. Indeed, even the feel of Lucifer's fingers sliding along his collarbone could not distract him sufficiently. "You said you only wanted to make Him see reason." The pleasantness quickly dissipated, and the dark-haired angel shivered at the intensity of the look he was now receiving from his lover. "I don't wish to challenge the Throne…" Those words were cut short as Lucifer's lips crushed against his. Angels generally have comforting touches, but the heat sweeping through Sariel's skin where Lucifer's body was pressed against his was nothing like the gentle warmth that divine beings should impart. This was a searing fever that caused his breath to come in shallow gasps and his skin to tingle in a manner not entirely unpleasant. Lucifer wound his long fingers into dark, silky hair, tugging it back roughly and sliding his lips along Sariel's neck as he pushed him against the wall.

"I want to have you, in every conceivable way." Lucifer whispered heatedly. Sariel then realized that the feeling now taking hold of his divinely-wrought flesh was no longer love. No, this was what humans called lust, and it was as powerful as anything he'd ever felt. There was a potential for destruction in this feeling that frightened him, unfamiliar as he was to the world of such ardent emotions.

"Lucifer—" He had something important to say, something about sin and judgment, but he found that he could not form the thoughts coherently. "We can't."

The blonde pulled away, his lips swollen red from the kisses and love bites he'd left along Sariel's neck. This only made him more attractive. "Yes, I'm aware that we cannot truly satisfy our desires. Pleasure is yet another gift denied to us and given to those _humans_. They are nothing but a poor mimicry of angels made for the benefit of His amusement." Lucifer was angry now. One might say that he was wrathful. The brunette reached out to comfort him, to offer a soothing word or two, but his hands were batted away so forcefully that he felt a resultant sting in his preternatural flesh. "You are a coward, Sariel," Lucifer mocked, his words now dripping with venom when moments earlier they'd been like honey. "You hesitate to stand against Him because you're afraid." Sariel moved to contradict him, to explain that he loved both Lucifer and his Lord, that he could never choose between the two, but once again he was rebuffed. The blonde spun on his heel and stalked out, but before he left, he paused in the archway long enough to spit, "How could I love so craven a being?"

Sariel stared after him, his thoughts whirling wildly as a terrible heaviness settled in his chest where lately a burning desire had been, prompting him to swear that he'd make himself more resolute for his beloved's sake. He placed his fingers delicately to his mouth, remembering the feeling of Lucifer's lips as they met his. And then he knew that he was experiencing heartache. How like a human he'd become. He wondered idly if he would perish if he should eat all of the hellebore he'd so carefully cultivated - for that is what he wanted every time Lucifer left him so abruptly. In those moments, Sariel wanted to die; of that he was certain. He could endure anything but the crushing weight of his own sorrow. This was the first time he wished he was human, but it would not be the last.

In retrospect, Sariel should have known that their relationship would not go unnoticed by the Lord, but he'd been so thoroughly enraptured by their love that he did not realize how far he'd fallen until the two were Summoned before the Presence. He bowed reverently before the Throne as he always had, but he did not hear the rustle of silk and feathers that would have attended Lucifer's own show of humility. He chanced a glance at his companion and was staggered to find the other angel still on his feet, his wings stretched wide and his head held high. Even in defiance, Lucifer was positively radiant as he stood erect in the exceedingly bright light of the Throne, his eyes fiery amethysts as they looked unflinchingly upon the Presence. Sariel did not think that God Himself could be so breathtaking. And then he closed his eyes in shame for having put his lover above his Lord.

"I have Summoned you here to explain yourselves." God's voice was a deep rumble that swept through Sariel's whole body. It reverberated in his chest as if it had originated within him all along. He'd spent too much time away from the Throne of late, he thought. How he missed the feeling of bliss that typically accompanied that voice. He then inhaled sharply, for he'd just noticed that he could no longer feel the blissfulness of the divine presence.

"You want us to explain love, my Lord? Are you not the architect of it? Shouldn't you, in all your infinite knowledge, understand love perfectly?" Lucifer spoke haughtily as Sariel watched the proceedings from his knees, horrified at the various emotions that were now rampaging through his psyche.

"Your love is a corruption, Lucifer. It is covetous and tainted with lust, and therefore unwelcome in My Kingdom. You cannot love Sariel more than any of the others. It is unacceptable."

Sariel felt the rush of a thousand heartbreaks. He would be commanded to stop loving Lucifer, he knew. And he was uncertain of his ability to do so. _Maybe Lucifer is right. Maybe angels should be free to love whomever they choose, however they choose. _And then his heart stopped beating altogether for what seemed like an eternity. He'd blasphemed.

"You give them love, pleasure, and dominion over a new world which they will only bring to ruin. Yet you deny us when we have served you so diligently for so long. Why do you place them before us, Lord?" Lucifer had drawn his wings around him protectively. His face was contorted by anger and pain, and instead of wanting to rebuke his fellow Seraphim for daring to question God, Sariel wanted nothing more than to hold him close and kiss the sorrow away. He would have died a thousand deaths to never see that look on his lover's face again. "Do you not love them more than angels? Are you not guilty of the same inequities that you so readily charge against us?"

"It is not for you to question my actions. You are not Lord of Heaven."

Lucifer scoffed. "I recognize no Lord here, only a hypocritical tyrant." The blonde turned his back on God and walked away in a rage, leaving a kneeling Sariel alone in the presence of the Almighty.

He felt tears gathering in his eyes, and as they spilled over and down his cheeks, he realized that this was called crying. He'd never felt so hopeless in his long life. When had Heaven ceased to feel like home? Why was their love so wrong? Were not angels created to love? He'd become lost in his own despair when he felt gentle fingers curl under his chin and lift his head. He stood to find himself face to face with the Lord.

"My beloved child, this will be difficult for you most of all." Sariel looked into the Maker's eyes, eyes that radiated with pure power, and he knew then that the he'd already turned his back on the Throne too. Nothing could keep him from Lucifer's side, not the whole of Heaven, not even God Himself. God wiped the tears away from Sariel's face and wrapped His own wings around the broken angel. Yet there was no comfort to be had in this embrace, since the one that Sariel longed to embrace would no longer be satisfied with mere gestures. Lucifer would want him to choose a side. Lucifer craved freedom. Lucifer would aim to remake Heaven into a place where their love would not be forbidden. Lucifer would have war.

"My Lord, why can't we love like the humans do?" He spoke uncertainly, crushing his face against the Maker's chest, tears spilling forth uncontrollably. Perhaps, if he could reason with God, everything would be set right once again.

"Because it will only bring you pain. Were you capable of tears before you loved, Sariel?"

"No." His voice cracked. He now knew the heavy price that Lucifer's love had exacted from him.

"And that is why Heaven cannot allow romantic love. You must be unbiased; it is a requisite for all who do the Will of the Lord."

"You mean we must be unfeeling slaves." Sariel felt himself growing hot with anger. True, he'd been sad on account of his feelings for Lucifer, but he'd been happy too. In fact, he'd never felt more joyous than he was when in the other's arms. Their love, he reasoned, could not be completely without merit. The Lord's prohibition of it was therefore unreasonable.

"Are you not content serving me? Do you find your work unsatisfying?" The Maker posed the question gently, like a father to a child.

"I cannot be content without him, my Lord." Sariel broke their embrace then, knowing that the path he'd take could never again be un-taken. He'd defied God. He'd fallen from grace.

"The choice is yours. Even angels have free will. But take heed, my child. Lucifer loves his pride more than you."

"You're—"

"I'm what? Wrong, Sariel? How can I be?" The angel walked away then, turning back to take a final fleeting glance at the Lord he'd worshiped so devotedly. "Your heart will be shattered when all is said and done. I hope he is worth the wound." Sariel never spoke to God again.

War had come, just as he'd known it would. Lucifer gathered an army of angels. Some had likewise found God's injunction against love between them to be cruel. Some detested the fact that God loved the humans so blindly. Men were adored despite their imperfections, but angels were cast from the sight of the Almighty if they were not obedient in every regard. Many of the angels were simply lured by Lucifer's promises of a free Heaven wherein they would not be deprived of Earthly delights. And when the war ended, Sariel found himself being flung from Heaven by the archangel Michael himself.

He fell for an eternity, the inertia of his descent causing his body to erupt in flames and his wings to ignite. Watching the immaculate white feathers turn to cinders was more agonizing than the sting of the conflagration itself. They did not burn away as he'd imagined, but rather they remained attached to his body like a twisted black skeleton of the magnificent wings they had once been. He knew that they would never again be white. The former angel closed his eyes as he fell, and when finally he found himself upon the ground of his new domain, he opened them reluctantly, fearful of what he might see. The sudden influx of light made his retinas burn, and he squinted against the harshness which was so unlike the soft glow of the Eternal City. A gentle wind blew past his ear; he could sense the barrenness of the landscape although his eyes had not yet grown accustomed to the haze. Remnants of black plumage danced in the wind. Apparently, all the fallen angels' wings had undergone the same transformation as his. He reached forth to catch one such charred feather, realizing to his horror that his skin was no longer luminescent, and that his hand was tipped with long black claws. Sariel wrapped his fingers around it, surprised to find that it felt much softer than it looked, and as his eyes became fully acclimated to his surroundings, he found himself holding a strand of unruly black curls and gazing into mischievous brown eyes. Alexandra had been blowing in his ear while he slept.

"I thought demons didn't sleep." She said as she curled herself into his side. The night breeze swept in through the open window, making her bare skin pucker in the resultant chill. He pulled her closer to keep her warm, one hand still slipping through her hair, the other sliding up and down her back. Sebastian felt suddenly out of sorts, as though he'd fought an eons-long battle, the memory of which was lingering just outside of his consciousness.

"Your insatiable appetite is taking its toll on your humble servant, I'm afraid," he said smoothly, albeit a bit distractedly. He felt inexplicably sad, but could not determine why this should be when it was clear that he'd spent several of these last hours partaking of his master's flesh.

"_My_ appetite? You're kidding, right?" she huffed sarcastically and threw an arm over his chest, her fingernails lightly tracing patterns in his skin.

"Yes, this is all your fault. Had you not been so taken with that vampire, I would not have felt compelled to demonstrate to you my superiority." A hint of a smirk played at the corner of his lips.

"I wasn't _taken_ with the vampire. I wanted to see if you could handle competition."

He curved a finger under her chin and brushed his lips against hers. "It could hardly be considered a competition."

Alexandra laughed. "My apologies for comparing you with such an irredeemable lout, as you put it. Honestly, he wasn't that bad. A little forward, perhaps." A moment passed before she continued, "Sebastian?"

"Hmm?"

"You woke with a bit of a start. Were you having a nightmare?" He could hear her concern, and it caused a slight pull in his chest where his heart ought to have been.

"It's unlikely. I cannot dream. And if I could, I have no doubt the contents would be limited to my current contract. And as much as you might frighten other people, master, there is nothing at all nightmarish about you to me."

"I can fix that, you know."

Sebastian smiled indulgently and drew her closer still, but as he kissed her he felt a momentary iciness where their lips met. And there it was, briefly, but doubtless present his mind's eye – a cascade of straw-colored curls dazzling even before the splendor of the Throne, and a flash of eyes as beautiful and as deadly as hellebore.

And then the image faded, leaving nothing behind it in the way of memory.

* * *

'H' is for 'hellebore'.


	10. I

NB: I wrote this because I've been unsatisfied with how saccharine Alexandra and Sebastian have become in this set of drabbles. It's my fault, I know, since I'm the writer who wanted to try her hand at fluff knowing full well that my darker sensibilities always win out. Consider this sordid little tale my attempt at exorcising my own demons so that I might write you happier chapters in future.

This will be the last update in a while. I've completely neglected another story and I'm sure the Shiki contingent will have my head if I don't update soon.

Content warning: Sadistic main characters. Violence. Lack of fluff. Don't read this if you want romance. You won't find it. Also there's blasphemy depending on who you identify with. This chapter should likely carry an 'M' rating, but I can't rate chapters individually and I didn't want to bump the rating for the whole series. Anyway, you've been warned.

Hey, JPVortex, are you there? If you are, know that this one's for you because you like Alexandra better when she's a badass.

* * *

Petersburg had a number of Orthodox churches, but Alexandra's destination was the one that she was intimately familiar with, so she found it easily, even in the dead of night. It was in the old town, not far from John's apartment, but far enough from the city's center to allow for a certain degree of privacy. They needed privacy tonight. Sebastian walked beside her, his arm wrapped around her waist like a vice, his lips brushing along her ear. The plastic smile that he wore matched perfectly her own. Had anyone been paying attention to the pair, they would have looked like two lovers keeping each other warm on a snowy night. It was very late, yes, but even so, they couldn't be too careful.

"Do you feel any other supernatural presence but ours?" she asked, leaning into him and sliding her own arm underneath his coat. _Might as well play the part_, she thought, watching her breath fog in the wintry air.

Sebastian smirked at the contact but retained his seriousness otherwise. "No." He released some of his own demonic energy when he felt a shiver run through her arm. Humans were so fragile. It wouldn't do to have his master succumb to frostbite – not when he was just beginning to have fun.

"Thanks," she said, relishing the warmth.

He nodded, not so much in acknowledgement of her appreciation but rather at the edifice about thirty meters in front of them. The church was an old one. It had once been a stunning baroque structure, an achievement in ecclesiastical architecture. It was now crumbling and gray, but she remembered loving it despite its dilapidation, or perhaps because of it. Alexandra had been attending services there ever since she'd returned to Russia years ago. Of course, she'd not set foot in the building after her family's murder, but she figured that selling one's soul was an act of hostility against the religious establishment, so she considered her absence a show of respect. _But this hypocrite no longer deserves my respect, _she thought savagely. _Since God can't be bothered to set things right, I'll do it myself. _The latest bit of information they'd gathered provided evidence of a betrayal that she did not anticipate, committed by a man she'd considered a mentor of sorts.

Sebastian sensed the weight of her thoughts. To him they felt like the dark hush which descended upon a room after all the light had been extinguished. A rare genuine smile graced his lips. _You are a soul truly worthy of my talents, master._

They didn't bother knocking. Being supernaturally gifted as they were, locks were of little consequence. The nave was perfectly still, and its shadows took on sinister shapes for lack of illumination. _A nighttime church is really disturbing_, she thought as she looked upon the paneled gates which hid the altar. Moonlight fell in colorful shafts along the chamber as it filtered in through the stained-glass windows. This made the stone floors seem even more decrepit and weather-worn. She could almost feel the ghosts of the souls that had sought peace here, attending service unfailingly, kneeling before the bishop in supplication, partaking of the Holy Communion. Some part of the church's many past worshipers still lingered, she knew. Memories always resided in such places. Inexplicably, this only made her feel lonely. _Without parishioners in attendance, it feels like God never sets foot here_. Alexandra briefly wondered if her own fall from grace was the reason she felt so out of sorts in a building that she'd once adored. She buried this feeling of unease under her own anger, knowing that it was fury and not regret that would lend her the resolve needed to see to the matter at hand.

She knew where to find the man she sought, so they made their way past the bishop's throne and up the narrow staircase which led to the apartments above. They'd broken their mock embrace upon entering, and Sebastian followed closely after his master as the wooden steps creaked under her footfall. She did not bother to muffle the sounds, he noticed.

Alexandra came upon the landing which opened to the priest's apartments. Actually, these apartments were comprised of one long room with a stone floor and curved walls that met in an arch. It had a medieval feel about it, and years ago, Alexandra had rather liked spending time here. _Not anymore._ She found the bishop kneeling before his many icons. He still wore the majority of his holy vestments. She rolled her eyes, surprisingly irritated at the fact that a man so thoroughly corrupt would dare to join his hands in prayer. How ridiculous he seemed to her then—his corpulent body and hoary head wrapped in gilded robes which were no doubt purchased for an exorbitant sum. Father Vasily had been a trusted adviser in the past, one of the few officials of the church that accepted the exorcist as a peer. Many of the others had been fearful of Alexandra's power and suspicious of her foreign upbringing. She was not one of them, after all. But Father Vasily had seemed a kindly man, often spending hours at the manor arguing with her over the minutiae of Greek incantations or discussing the trappings of various magical rites. She'd been foolish to trust him so blindly, particularly when the rest of his ilk were hesitant to make themselves as accommodating. Her lip curled in disgust as she thought of how ignorant she'd been. _If I had seen through him back then, Isaac and Nikki might still be alive. _The kneeling man pretended to be unaware of their presence.

"Tell me Father, what precisely do you pray for? Is it absolution? From what sins, I wonder." There was a soft mocking in her tone that was like music to her demon's ears.

"Your Grace, I did not hear you enter. It has been too long." He'd stood up and turned to face them, seemingly pleased at seeing her after nearly two years, but his feigned pleasure gave way to alarm when he looked from Alexandra to Sebastian. The demon had made no move to hide his true nature. His eyes glinted maliciously and a creeping shadow made its way along the floor from his feet to the bishop as if in attempt to grasp the other man. The candlelight flickered ominously. Father Vasily instinctively grabbed the gilded cross that hung around his neck.

Alexandra laughed, high and shrill. "Oh that won't save you. Sebastian's not a vampire." She made her way to the scrubbed wooden table that occupied the center of the room and dropped herself into a chair without being invited, casually crossing her legs upon the surface. "Please, do sit down."

"You...you may have heard some vicious rumors about my collusion with the Khlysty. I would hope that someone of your intelligence would not believe such lies." He said haltingly, but he did not join Alexandra.

"How dare you address me as a colleague? You are no longer worthy of such familiarity, you spineless coward." The words issued forth in a harsh whisper, and Sebastian knew that she'd wanted to scream them. But she kept her composure nonetheless. "I believe I asked you to sit, Father."

The bishop stood frozen, so Sebastian directed his shadow to snatch him up and deposit him into the chair opposite Alexandra. The demon materialized behind Father Vasily, one hand settled gently on his shoulder. The feelings of fear and desperation that the older man was giving off were positively ambrosial. Indeed, Sebastian could have howled in delight. Alexandra took a carafe from the table and poured a large measure of wine into a bronze goblet. It was an awfully ostentatious drinking glass, Sebastian thought, but certainly not surprising given the fact that they were in the presence of a man who was donning his vestments at 2AM. She brought the goblet to her lips and sipped the wine.

"Communion wine, no? I remember the taste. It's always been awful." She screwed her face up as if to demonstrate her assessment of the wine's flavor.

"Your Grace, I know what you must think—" he began.

"No, no. That will never do. Call me Alexandra," she chided. "For as you see, I have so clearly fallen from grace." She gestured to Sebastian, who smiled his devil's smile as the man turned up to gaze upon him.

The exorcist cleared her throat, claiming again the attention of their captive. "Are you familiar with the story of Icarus, Father?" The priest said nothing. "No? Icarus was the son of a craftsman. One day, his father fashioned him wings from wax and feathers." She stopped to look upon her prey, her gaze cold and unfeeling. "Stop me if this sounds familiar, okay?" Alexandra waited for a response, and when she received none she merely shrugged and continued. "Icarus was warned not to fly too close to the sun because his new wings would melt. Well he didn't heed this warning, believing himself to be beyond the consequences of his actions. And when his wings melted, he tumbled out of the sky and into the ocean." Another dramatic pause. "You see, Father, you've been flying entirely too close to the sun. And I have come to clip your wings." Her eyes seemed to glow with the demonic fire that so often alighted Sebastian's.

He attempted to stand up, but a sharp squeeze of his captor's long fingers served as sufficient warning for the present. Alexandra drawled on with an imperiousness in her tone that Sebastian found incredibly alluring. "I have questions. You have answers. The quicker you answer, the cleaner your death. Understood?"

Father Vasily tried to protest, stammering over his excuses, clutching at his cross once again, but he was quickly brought around with a quick slap from Sebastian's gloved hand. He barked at the resultant pain and then nodded in submission, a trickle of blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

"Who are the Khlysty?"

"They are those who claim to follow the sorcerer Rasputin," he said mechanically.

"Oh good, you've learned how to play this game." Alexandra was thoroughly pleased with how pliant her interlocutor had become. Sebastian was _good_. "They have magical power, yes?"

"Yes."

She took another sip of wine. "Where do they get it?"

"I-I don't know." Father Vasily's eyes had gone wide. Sweat began beading along his forehead although the room was not at all warm. She couldn't tell if he was lying or just petrified.

"How unfortunate. You were doing so well." She drank again, eyes trained unflinchingly on her captive the whole time. "Tell me what you do know."

"I've told you. Some of them are magicians, like you. I know nothing apart from that."

Alexandra placed her glass down delicately. She uncrossed her legs and dropped them to the floor, and then she stood up and leaned threateningly across the table. The bishop shrank back only to find his shoulders coming into contact with the demon behind him. "They are _nothing _like me," she snarled.

"I only meant—"

"Enough. Tell me what I want to know," she said, the calmness returning to her voice as she resumed her seat. "Or I will have Sebastian extract the information in the most excruciating manner possible. I assure you, he will have no problem fulfilling the task." Sebastian slightly tightened his grip on the older man's shoulder, being careful to press into his pressure point. Father Vasily gasped in pain.

"There is a rumor, but it is a rumor only." He said uncertainly. Alexandra nodded for him to go on. "Some say that the Khlysty have gained their power through Rasputin's biological descendants."

"Really?" Alexandra thought that rather surprising. She was unaware that the dark magician had any descendants. But their magic was far too strong to be too removed from the sorcerer himself; that was true enough. _No matter, _she thought, _I will find every last trace of his evil power and wipe it from the face of this earth forever._ "Interesting." She remained silent for several moments, no doubt determining what her next course of action would be. "You've been very helpful. Thank you."

Her interrogation was completed. It was short, true, but she'd not come simply for answers. At any rate, Father Vasily likely knew nothing more of consequence. She was certain that he'd been a rather low-level member of the group she hunted. In all likelihood, he'd served his purpose to Rasputin's followers when he disclosed the location of her home. They'd come for her on his information. The realization broke Alexandra's heart so thoroughly that she knew she'd have to quench that pain with the satisfaction of revenge. She regarded the priest once more. "Why did you betray us?"

Sebastian could hear Father Vasily's heart race uncontrollably and smell his sweat. His abject terror was so thick that the demon could taste it on the air. "They would have found you anyway. Have you any idea the tortures they would have subjected me to had I not cooperated?"

"Perhaps they would have found us, but had you been a true friend, you would have warned me. I could have set up a magical defense. I could have escaped with my family."

"Alexandra, I loved Isaac and Nikki too." She did not need to give an order. Sebastian silenced the bishop without so much as a glance. Alexandra smiled up at him. _He's very good._

Her tone softened considerably after that. "And I am all too aware of the tortures that they would have subjected you to. I watched my family undergo those tortures in your stead, Father."

The priest said nothing at all, realizing that his fate had been sealed when the Khlysty failed to kill the woman sitting before him. Alexandra pulled her goblet closer, sliding her finger around its rim and closing her eyes. "_Mara"_ she intoned, in barely a whisper. She pushed the cup across the table to Father Vasily. "Drink."

He looked at her in horror.

"Oh come now, it's the Blood of Christ, right? Surely it will do you no harm." Sebastian had to restrain himself from laughing. His master's occasional sadism could put demons to shame.

"Have mercy, my child." The older man was begging now, knowing that she'd turned the wine into poison. "Have mercy, and God will have mercy upon you when your time comes."

"Let's leave the mercy to God, shall we." She stated simply. "Drink, or I'll leave you to Sebastian."

The demon stooped low to look into the bishop's eyes. He flashed a malevolent grin, his shadow now looming over the other man as another chill swept through the room. The priest recoiled as much as he could before the wooden chair dug painfully into his lower back. His tears continued to fall unchecked as he choked back sobs, but he reached for the goblet with a trembling hand, knowing that the alternative would be much worse. Before he could close his unsteady fingers around its stem, however, Sebastian had already picked it up.

"Allow me," he whispered, irises gleaming. He put the goblet to the other man's lips while Alexandra watched impassively. Father Vasily took a hesitant sip and Sebastian tipped the cup into his mouth to speed along the process. They needed to be efficient. "Good boy," he said when the contents had been drained.

Alexandra stood then, turning her back to the dying man. "Consider us even, Father. You helped them steal my life from me. I have just stolen yours in recompense." She made her way out the door and down the steps. Sebastian followed wordlessly. As they entered the nave once again, Alexandra halted briefly to look again at the altar which was barred from their sight. There was a flash of incredible sorrow on her face, but it was gone in an instant, and then she walked out into the night as though nothing of consequence had taken place in the last hour. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose tiredly. _How much more? How much more blood must I spill to finish this? _A heavy sigh escaped her lips before she turned to Sebastian, who'd been watching her in interest for the last several moments. He was looking for a weakness, she knew. She opted not to give him one. "Burn it down. The whole damned thing. And take us home."

He knew that her steely demeanor was completely at odds with the maelstrom of emotions that stirred within, and this contradictory nature made her deliciously attractive to him in a myriad of ways. She was no Icarus, after all. Alexandra would never tumble because Sebastian's wings had been forged in fire.

"Is that an order, master?"

"Yes."

* * *

'I' is for 'Icarus'.

AN: Oh, so you thought Sebastian and Sariel were the same person? I'm afraid not. He's no angel anymore. And Alexandra had never been one.

Apologies to those of you with finer sensibilities, but as I said I really needed to get this out of my system.


	11. J

NB: I love you guys. Yes, all of you who read my stuff, even if I don't know you're there. You keep me going on days like this. For that I thank you.

Enough mush. It's story time. For the record, 'J' is a dreadfully frustrating letter. This is what happens when you have to contrive plot to fit structure. Apologies if it's not up to par.

* * *

Alexandra tightened her grip on the small hand that was in perpetual danger of slipping out of her own. Her five year old son was desperately tugging at his arm, straining to escape her reach. She quickened her step to keep pace, amazed at how someone with such short legs could move so fast. They'd come to a so-called fair. Transient carnivals would set up camp outside of Petersburg from time to time. Like their American counterparts, they had a number of booths showcasing various games, foods, fortune-telling, and of course, the sort of mechanical rides that had been erected in a few hours. Alexandra had always been wary of such contraptions. But explaining the dangers of carnival rides to Nikki had proved ineffective. They had just come off a large Ferris-wheel wherein the individual boxes flipped upside down as the wheel turned. She was still reeling. Nikki, on the other hand, seemed fully recovered as he looked around for the next distraction. Her little boy now pushed through the winding streams of people, enchanted by the brightly colored booths that seemed to positively glow at night.

"Nikki, slow down," she gasped. He was bursting with energy tonight, it seemed, and she smiled broadly at his exuberance. He had always been a precocious child, equal parts intelligent and reckless. She adored this about him—they were so very much alike. He stopped abruptly in front of a large tent, allowing her to catch up. It looked out of place amongst the lively stalls on either side of it, as though the structure itself warded away the more animated visitors. Midnight blue velvet was draped over a gigantic iron frame to give it shape. The fabric was dotted with metallic stars, and over the entrance hung a gauzy silver curtain. Alexandra could smell the incense coming from within. She smirked. _A fortune-teller. How cliché._

"Mommy, let's go in here!" Nikki jerked his thumb at the tent, his wide eyes causing her refusal to melt on her lips. It was an expression that his father wore often, and in an equally efficacious manner. She rolled her eyes. _I'm going to kill Isaac for teaching him that._

Alexandra stooped to her knees and placed her hands gently on her son's shoulders, hoping to talk him out of it. "Honey, you're too young to have your fortune read. It wouldn't tell you anything except that you're going to start school very soon and that your parents love you very much." This was partly true. Workaday fortune-tellers like the one no doubt occupying this booth couldn't perform true divinations. Even magicians were mediocre diviners at best. This was one of the reasons that fortunes were so very vague. Despite this, she didn't want to take the chance that a cheap sideshow act would say something to her son that might worry him. One could never be certain about such things.

Nikki bowed his head in disappointment. He then shuffled his feet, continuing to stare at the ground. "But you're not."

"What?" _Damnit. He just keeps getting smarter, doesn't he? No more books!_

"You can have your fortune read, Mommy. Please! I want to see." She sighed and closed her eyes, knowing she'd relent. It was her own fault, she supposed. She'd never really insulated him from the magical arts. As such, Nikki had grown up knowing that the otherworldly existed. Like any child, he'd accepted this without hesitation and with absolute delight. He loved magic; it was yet another thing that the two of them shared. Alexandra even wondered if he had latent supernatural powers of his own.

"Okay. But we're going home straight after. Your father's probably making plans to cook dinner right now," she said, making sure to convey her anxiety to the boy.

"Yuk. Daddy's food sucks."

She bit back a laugh. There was something to be said for culinary results so terrible that they were an affront to a five year old's palette. "I know. That's why I want to get home soon. And you shouldn't say 'sucks'. Where'd you learn that anyway?"

"Uncle John."

_Of course_, she thought. "Your uncle John shouldn't say that either. Be sure to correct him next time, okay?" He nodded, clearly relieved that he wasn't going to get into any major trouble for using such coarse language. She tied the balloon that she'd been holding for him around his tiny wrist, knotting it carefully so that it wouldn't float away. "Can you hang on to this while we're inside?"

"Yep." She ruffled his hair and stood.

"Okay. Let's go." Alexandra took his hand again, the bright green balloon bouncing up and down gently between them as they entered the tent. The smell of incense flooded her nose, and she wondered if it was bothering Nikki. But he seemed, if anything, rather awed by the sight greeting them. A small, round table had been placed in the center of the circular tent. The ubiquitous crystal ball sat upon it, surrounded by a number of half-burned candles that were dripping wax of various colors onto a plum-colored silk tablecloth. The ball glowed from within with an eerie blue light. In the dim lighting, Alexandra could barely make out an electrical cord coming out of it. _Jeez, it's like they've seen one too many movies_, she thought as she walked towards it. She squinted in hopes of finding the conspicuously absent seer. Four small, cushioned chairs circled the table. They looked like they'd rarely been used. She'd just moved to sit down when she heard a rustle of clothes and a bell-like tinkling coming from the shadows, just outside her line of sight.

"Welcome. Madame Scheherezadhe has been expecting you." A surprisingly young woman emerged from the shadows, dark-haired and exceedingly beautiful. Her long curls were not unlike Alexandra's, except that they seemed more wild somehow, and almost alive. Strings of red and yellow were woven throughout her hair; they stood out sharply in the bluish light. She wore oversized rings on each of her thin fingers, and numerous shawls were wrapped about her neck. A tinkling followed her as she moved, the sound a strange mixture of playful and creepy. Madame Scheherezadhe peered at Alexandra with clear, grey eyes. Her appraising gaze sent a small shiver up Alexandra's spine. Clearly, the woman was practiced in art of crafting a mysterious air about herself.

_She's got a great affect, but the getup is trite, _Alexandra thought dismissively._ An abuse of the gypsy fortune-teller trope if I've ever seen one. And an offensively Orientalist one at that. _She thought she heard the slightest hint of amused laughter echoing through the tent—a soft chuckle almost musical in nature, but she detected no other presence and decided that she'd imagined it. Despite the fact that her patience with this charade was already wearing thin, Alexandra responded politely, more for Nikki's sake than anything else. "Hello. I'm Alexandra."

"Yes, I know." Madame Scheherezadhe's accent was no doubt as much of a performance as her clothes and overwrought persona. The 's' of her 'yes' snaked into a 'z' sound, and even knowing that it was all for effect, Alexandra felt a creeping fear inching along her skin. Again she looked at Nikki, wondering if he felt it too. He was completely unafraid and quite taken with the woman in front of them. _Maybe I'm being skittish. _She shook her head to clear her mind and gestured to the chair in front of her.

"May I?"

The other woman inclined her head. "I'd be honored."

Nikki settled himself happily in a chair, his feet swinging back and forth, sending minute vibrations through the balloon at his wrist which now looked luminescent in the darkness. Alexandra sat beside him, resting one hand on his knee and the other on the table. She scratched idly at the silk, hoping the reading wouldn't take very long.

"What can Madame Scheherezadhe do for you? Have you come on behalf of the little one?" Those cold, cloud-colored eyes alighted upon Nikki for the briefest of instances, making the hairs on the back of Alexandra's neck stand up. She felt a sudden urge to throttle the woman who was now seated across from her. Feeling rather unnerved that she'd experienced an extreme range of emotions in such a short while, Alexandra looked again to her son to see if he'd noticed anything strange. He seemed as unaffected as he'd been the whole time, looking up at her and fixing her with such a sweet smile that she relaxed instantly. _He's fine. I'm overreacting. _She squeezed his knee.

"No. I would like you to read my fortune."

"Ah," Madame Scheherezadhe intoned dramatically, "I can do so in any number of ways, my dear. Would you like me to look into the depths of the mystical crystal ball? Or would you prefer that I read your palm? The palm is more accurate I think."

"Can you read tarot?" Alexandra asked. If she was going to have her fortune read, she might as well have it done properly.

The seer seemed rather pleased that her client was no novice. Her lips curled up in a grin that looked almost menacing. "Indeed. Is there a spread you prefer?"

"No spread. One card." _Let's cut this short_.

The fortune-teller brought out a deck of tarot cards from somewhere within the folds of her robes. She shuffled them, her bangles tinkling ominously in the otherwise silent chamber. She held the deck out to Alexandra, who cut the cards, placing the cut half on the table. The diviner then inclined her head towards Nikki, and again Alexandra felt the inexplicable desire to push the woman as far away from her son as possible. "Would you like to draw the card, my child?" But her manner softened considerably upon turning her attention to the little boy. Nikki squealed in joy as he slid the card off the top of the deck. He flipped it and placed it face-up on the table. Alexandra nearly gasped.

"The Jester." Madame Scheherezadhe said with a finality that sounded like a death sentence. Alexandra recomposed herself. There was nothing to indicate that this fraud knew the real significance of the Jester card—a meaning that had been passed down among magicians for centuries. Most popular diviners claimed that the card suggested an innate wisdom yet a childlike comportment towards the vagaries of the world. It was, for all intents and purposes, a rather harmless reading that could accurately describe a considerable number of people. Doubtless such an interpretation helped many a fortune-seeker sleep soundly. But like anything else, the Jester card carried a darker valence, a meaning hinted at by the fact that the fool depicted in the card was often seen teetering on the edge of a precipice, completely oblivious to his imminent fall. But Madame Scheherezadhe could not know such things; she was no magician, after all. Alexandra was certain that she would have felt the other woman's supernatural power otherwise. And if the seer was a fake, so too was the fortune. "You have knowledge that the world knows not. Yes?"

"Yes." _And so does everyone else. _Alexandra agreed almost automatically, relieved as she was to confirm that the seer was a charlatan.

"But neither do you know the world." Madame Scheherezadhe's voice had become urgent all of the sudden. Alexandra tried her best not to laugh outright. _You're overdoing it now, lady. _"There are dangers lying in wait." She nodded towards Nikki. "For both of you." The icy, hard glance the woman trained at her son made Alexandra's blood run cold. She was no longer sure that the diviner was a sham. The woman seemed to know the true significance of the card that had been drawn. And if the fortune-teller did indeed have some power, she'd been skilled enough to mask it completely. This information was enough for the exorcist; she had no intention of remaining there any longer.

"Stop!" Alexandra held up her hand in warning. "Nikki, we're leaving now." He stood immediately, being no stranger to that particular tenor of his mother's voice. She motioned to stand as well, but Madame Scheherezadhe swiftly seized her hand. Her hold was remarkably strong and Alexandra tried to wrest herself from it to no avail.

"You can leave if you like, Your Grace, but you _know_ the meaning of this card. The Jester. The fool whose ignorance and hubris lead him to plummet into the abyss. Take heed that you do not meet the same end." Upon those words, Nikki tore out of the tent. Alexandra wrenched her arm out of the woman's grasp and followed after her him.

He stood about fifteen feet from the entrance with his back to her, his small shoulders hunched sadly. She was thankful he'd not ventured far. "Nikki." She sank down on her knees in front of him and took his chin in her hands, smiling reassuringly at the boy in hopes of quelling his fear. "Darling, you know that she only said those things to scare us, right?" Alexandra lied smoothly. She no longer questioned the diviner's legitimacy. But she knew that whatever the world had in store, she'd fight it without her son's knowing. He would sleep soundly. He would be protected. He would have a full and beautiful life. Of this, she was certain. She had divine aid, after all.

"I didn't like that woman." Tears spilled forth from his eyes. She wiped them away and kissed his cheek.

"You know, I didn't like her either. She was really creepy." He smiled and wrapped his arms around her neck. She pulled him closer. _I swear, I will burn the whole world before I let anything happen to you._ "Things can get scary sometimes, my love. But remember that nothing is too big and bad for us to fight. Got that?"

"Because you have magic?" He asked uncertainly.

"Yes. And because God will always protect us." He slipped out of her arms, accidentally undoing the balloon string that she'd tied to his wrist. She reached out to grab it before it floated away, but she was too late. He stared after it dejectedly. "Let's get you another."

Alexandra stood and took his hand. She turned around in the direction of the balloon vendor, and very nearly walked into a handsome young man who seemed to have materialized from nowhere.

"Oh. I'm so sorry. I didn't see you there."

He simply held up Nikki's balloon in response. "I believe this belongs to you, young man," he said kindly. He bent down and allowed the young boy to take the string which was caught in his long, gloved fingers.

"Thank you, mister!" Nikki smiled brightly at the stranger. Alexandra rested her hand atop her son's head, grateful to see his spirits buoyed. She turned again to the man.

"Hi. I'm Alexandra. Thanks for catching that! You're really quick, Mr.—" She stumbled, waiting for him to provide his name.

He didn't smile. Not exactly. It was a half-smile that hinted at myriad secrets. "I am called Malchior."

Alexandra laughed genially, not only at his name, but also his exceedingly formal manner. _Another performer._ "That's not your real name, is it?"

"No." He spoke indulgently, a soft amusement underscoring the word. Mischief danced in his brown eyes as his smirk lengthened.

"Let me guess. You're working with Madame Scheherezadhe." _Malchior and Scheherezadhe—what a pair. All they need is a Jafar. _

"In a manner of speaking."

"I see." She wondered briefly if the man had any idea of his coworker's considerable magical power, and whether he too might have abilities of his own. _Likely not. Magic is rare. To find it twice in one night would require beating astronomical odds. _"Well, I won't ask for any trade secrets. Thank you again for returning my son's balloon." She held out her hand, but he didn't take it. He bowed instead.

"It has been my pleasure, my lady."

Alexandra resumed her hold on her son, gladly distancing herself from Madame Scheherezadhe. By the time they arrived home, Nikki had regained his former exuberance, which only increased upon discovering that Isaac had demolished the kitchen. Apparently, the doctor had wanted to surprise them with home-made Halloween candy. This resulted in burns covering a large part of his hands and hardened sugar littering the kitchen floor. She patched him up, tugging at his dressings a bit more forcefully than was necessary. He merely gritted his teeth and fixed her with his trademark sheepish expression. In lecturing her brilliant but domestically obtuse husband about the dangers of sugar-spinning, she forgot completely about the fortune-teller and her colleague. By the time Isaac's bandaged hands were trailing along her skin in the velvety hush of their bedroom, she felt nothing at all of the fear that had gripped her in that smoky tent. In fact, Alexandra never remembered that day at the fair, even after the diviner's prediction came to pass.

* * *

'J' is for 'jester'.


	12. K

NB: This is very important: If you've not read the 'J' chapter, read it first.

It was my intention to never answer the question of Malchior's identity. I rather liked the mystery of it all. Upon further consideration (and a few reviews), I realized that this would be cruel. So, this chapter is for FeatheredXRequiem, because like Alexandra, I too have trouble resisting puppy pouts. And because she handed me the perfect 'K'.

Also, there is distinct lack of fluff here. But seriously, did you think Scheherezadhe and Malchior were going to have a pleasant conversation over tea and scones?

* * *

He watched them walk away, mother and son, hand-in-hand, the balloon now bouncing gaily between them as they grew more distant. He smiled, absentmindedly staring at her unruly curls as they blew about in the strong autumn wind. Alexandra Nikolayevich was not an unknown entity amongst his kind. She was an exorcist, after all. It was in Hell's best interests to be mindful of divine agents. In fact, demons tended to keep away from her sort while upon the Earth. Of course, humans were not inherently stronger than supernatural entities, but magicians could call upon divine aid. Most demons would prefer to avoid such altercations. But Malchior was not most demons, and so he was always watching. Despite his considerable otherworldly power, however, he was relieved that he had been Cloaked. By concealing his true nature, he was able to observe her without interruption. And he'd definitely seen it—the determination that Alexandra buried just under her mother's façade. He'd felt it on the air as she pulled her child close and vowed to an unheeding God that she'd burn the whole world if anyone should harm him. And in that instant, he had no doubt that she would wage war against Heaven itself for the sake of her son. He'd once had someone for whom he'd done the same. Alexandra Nikolayevich bore a resolve he found in very few contractors, and never so rarefied, at least not since Ciel Phantomhive. Malchior closed his eyes, remembering the exquisite taste of his young lord's soul. It had been positively ambrosial - sharp yet sweet, with a note of bitterness. The exorcist's soul would doubtless be of like quality. He'd almost lost himself in a mix of memory and fantasy when the sting on the back of his left palm caught his attention. His current master was calling him.

The demon made his way back to the fortune-teller's tent, taking his time. His mind lingered still on the pair that had just gone. He could steal the magician's soul, he supposed, but doing so would require killing her first, and while he wasn't opposed to violence on principle, he considered theft to be below his dignity. Souls not rendered voluntarily were invariably insipid, and as a result, they were not worthy of his time or efforts. But she did not have long before her world crashed around her. Perhaps he would make his move then. He remained in a state of contemplation as he drew aside the gauzy curtain hanging over the entrance to the tent.

"Where were you?" Scheherezadhe asked pointedly. "Are you not supposed to protect me? You left me alone with a magician. She could have killed me before I figured out what she was." Her accent had lost much of the sibilance it carried when Alexandra and Nikki had been there.

"You are never alone, master. Not while you carry the covenant. But if you must know, I was just conversing with your latest client. And I am certain that she would not have killed you," he stated in a dry, matter-of-fact tone that he knew would set his master's teeth on edge. She huffed. He resisted smirking.

"You don't know that. She drew a bad fortune. She could have been angry."

"Yes. The Jester. Most interesting." Malchior's eyes took on a vermillion glow then, but Scheherezadhe could not discern the precise reason for this. He could be so damnably withholding at times. And even when he wasn't being purposefully coy, he was still nearly impossible to fix.

"Were you here for the reading?"

He chuckled softly. "Your powers of divination are predicated upon my own. I do not need to witness a fortune to know its contents. Kismet has determined that Alexandra Nikolayevich die." _And what a waste that would be._ His smirk lengthened. "And she would not have killed you in the presence of the child."

_But you did not say that you would have protected me from her, _she thought. Scheherezadhe was not a real diviner, true, but she was also no fool. And she knew in the way that a woman knows such things that the look he was wearing now was one of hunger. She was also aware that this look was not directed at her. A cold sweat broke across her flesh then, making her voluminous robe stick to her body. If he'd found such temptation in another soul, he had no incentive to complete his current contract. She endeavored to determine the extent of his desire. "You're drawn to her power, yes?"

"She is very powerful. A soul worthy of my talents." He smiled indulgently at her, but the smile did not reach his eyes. "But so too were you. Once upon a time."

She let out a sarcastic bark. "If you're trying to hurt me, I'm afraid you'll have to work harder."

"Oh? I was not aware that I was aiming to do so."

She tutted impatiently. "So, how do you know that she won't let you down as well?"

"Even I cannot predict how fate will change a soul, but I have seen her kind of resoluteness before. It rarely wavers." Again he thought of the cold determination alighting one azure eye as a very young master issued orders without hesitation, without remorse.

"Are you suggesting that I'm a disappointment because I changed my mind about getting revenge?" Scheherezadhe had learned long ago to temper her anger when it came to Malchior. If anything, he enjoyed drawing her ire. Why he'd be so cruel to his own master she could never determine, but it was perhaps the most hurtful of his demonic proclivities.

"No. You are a disappointment because you did not have the wherewithal to finish what you started. Your fear clouds your judgment, makes you timid, and ultimately, it diminishes the flavor of your soul." Malchior was circumambulating the tent now, walking around the small, covered table in slow, deliberate steps. The crystal ball made his pale skin glow blue in the dim light. She stared from the shadows, entranced by how striking he looked in the near dark.

"Well, you're a demon. Of course you would prefer that I follow my darkest instincts."

He stopped, and then he gazed at her with his eyes afire as he drew closer in the same measured fashion. "I am what I am. But you do a disservice to your kind. You contracted me to gain supernatural power in order to find and destroy the men who violated you and left you for dead." He crooked a finger under her chin, his other hand wandering over the folds of her cloak unchecked. When she felt his gloved fingers on the bare skin of her abdomen, she gasped. He pressed his fingers into her flesh, watching her grey eyes grow wide in a combination of arousal and fear. "And while you now have the power you so desperately sought, you fail to act."

"Yes, but that was before I knew how little life was left to me. Things changed. I want to live without obligation or entanglements. Why else would I choose to join a travelling carnival, if not to taste as much of the world as I can?"

The demon released her then, turning on his heel abruptly. There was a subtle anger underscoring his words when next he spoke. Had she not been so familiar with his affect, she'd have missed this completely. "Oh my dear master, you can deceive yourself as long as you choose, but you cannot deceive me. Fear is what drove you from your path and into this ridiculous tent, frittering away our power on cheap parlor tricks. Fear is what prompts you to frighten others with your pronouncements of death. Fear is what keeps you hidden under absurd disguises so that those who thought you dead cannot find you and truly complete the deed. I can taste only your terror. Even now you fear that my desire for Alexandra Nikolayevich will compel me to break our contract."

Scheherezadhe held her breath as he spoke, knowing full well that he'd been unfailingly accurate in his assessment. She _was _afraid, but not only of the things that Malchior mentioned. Sometime after their contract was forged, she'd foolishly asked him to read her fortune. He'd declined, stating that even fortunes read by otherworldly beings signified only one of innumerable possibilities and were consequently subject to change, but she'd insisted, even as he maintained his reluctance. Malchior had only taken up the cards after being ordered to do so. They foretold her death in a few months' time. As she tallied each bygone day, she found that she cared less and less about seeking out those who'd harmed her so long ago and more about finding something, anything to enjoy in this world while she was yet able. Scheherezadhe was concerned that pursuing her rapists would cut short her already dwindling lifespan. She would be condemned upon her death anyway. Was it such a crime to want a piece of happiness before all was lost? Why couldn't the demon understand? "Is it so wrong to seek happiness?"

He sighed tiredly. _No. But I have no patience for such trivialities._

Scheherezadhe moved slowly towards him then, her many trinkets jingling invitingly with each step. He was still facing away from her, so she leaned into his back and wrapped her arms low around his waist. She rested her head against his shoulder blade, taking comfort in the solid warmth emanating from underneath his clothes. Her heart ached. That she'd become unsatisfying was loathsome to her, but she did not dare voice what truly prompted her to de-prioritize her vengeance. She spent her days pretending to be a gypsy fortune-teller because such a lifestyle would afford her the opportunity to pass as much idle time in his company as possible. He was cruel to her, yes, and sometimes he was too distant to reach, but she loved him anyway. Or at least she thought she did. She'd had no other with whom to compare him. Malchior had surely guessed at her feelings, but perhaps out of pity he did not lay them bare. Of this small mercy she was thankful.

"Perhaps kismet has determined that revenge elude me, Malchior. What would you make of that?" _Perhaps you and I were destined as well._

"Fate cannot determine your actions, master. Only you can do that. And you have determined to die a meaningless death."

Scheherezadhe pulled her arms around him tighter, leaning up and brushing her lips along the back of his neck. She inhaled his scent and kissed his skin softly. "It's not all been meaningless, has it?" she whispered. Her hands were now trailing up his chest, tugging gently at the silk of his tie. She pulled it free, but he did not respond at all to her touch.

"That depends on what one finds meaningful, master." She'd slipped around to face him now, nuzzling his neck and undoing the buttons on his shirt in an languid manner that any other man would have found irresistible. Her hands swept across his chest, but he would not be diverted from his thoughts. Scheherezadhe stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his, hoping that he'd find her a sufficient distraction from the other soul that was doubtless occupying his mind. Her advances were met with complete insouciance. _No_, she decided, _it is this that is most heart-breaking of all_. In the early days of their contract, she could not keep pace with his insatiable appetites. Lately, he seemed always sated while she ever longed for more. She was undeterred by his disinterest, however, since she'd already decided to take from the world whatever pleasures she could, regardless of the fate destined to meet her._ See, Malchior. I can be resolute too._

"Malchior, I order you to make love to me."

* * *

'K' is for 'kismet'.

AN: So you're likely wondering why I feel like I can take such license and write about Sebastian knowing of Alexandra before their contract. If you read the first section of 'Phoenix Rising,' you'll see that Sebastian knows more about Alexandra than he lets on. He's a sneaky bastard like that.

Also, I'm not sure if this vignette is any good. It seemed unlikely that Malchior and Scheherezadhe would have an extended conversation about Alexandra, so I thought I would take the opportunity to write about the things that make Sebastian tick, as it were. Hope you found it marginally satisfying. Personally, I don't know which of these sad sack characters I ought to feel most sorry for. Do let me know what you think. Sometimes, my best work comes from readers' comments in a PM or review.


	13. L

NB: I don't own Kuroshitsuji. But JK Rowling might sue Toboso Yana if the current volumes keep reading like Harry Potter and the Demon Bishie.

I've been slow to update. Apologies. I've been mired in the detritus of graduate education. Know that I love you, dear reader. You make my real life bearable.

* * *

Sebastian winced. Being almost invincible as he was, the sensation of physical pain was so novel that he'd forgotten what the biting sting of cut flesh truly felt like. He prodded the slash across the left side of his chest with a finger and hissed in irritation as he realized that he'd not progressed at all in the last half hour. _This will be a problem, _he thought, searching his considerable mental library for any curative magic which might aid his recovery. He'd just arrived at the idea of shifting into his true form to attempt a healing when he noticed another's presence.

"That wound is practically oozing dark energy. It will never improve on its own." Alexandra appeared in the corner of the ground floor bedroom that Sebastian had claimed for himself. Although he seldom slept and required rest very rarely, he rather liked having a space in her home that belonged solely to him. He also liked that this room was located in the part of the manor that Isaac and Alexandra had once occupied together – the part of the manor that Alexandra now avoided because it was haunted by her own memories. It was like her darkest, most desperate thoughts gathered in the shadows in this abandoned wing of the house. To him they tasted like honey, rich and sweet.

"How did you get in here? Surely you can't Cloak yourself from me." Having been caught off his guard, he felt considerably more vulnerable than he would have otherwise.

Alexandra winked conspiratorially and pressed against the brick wall in the corner of the room, causing a small section to depress and then slide away soundlessly. "No. But even you get distracted when you're hurt like that." She gestured at his tattered shirt, which was quickly changing its hue from soft grey to deep crimson. _So he does bleed red. Huh._ "Besides, this is a magician's home. Obviously there would be a secret passageway or two." She was rather impressed that the passage had escaped his notice for so long.

"Obviously," he grit his teeth in annoyance. Sebastian did not care one whit for being seen like this. It was beneath his dignity to appear before his master in such disarray. The fact that she was well aware of his sensibilities yet intruded upon his privacy nonetheless annihilated whatever modicum of patience he managed to feign. "Are you here because you've abandoned voyeurism for experiment? I suspected you would one day long to taste of the forbidden fruit, but I'm afraid I'm in no fit state to satisfy your idle curiosity tonight." His caustic tone betrayed the things he was too seemly to voice aloud. Alexandra made mental note of the change in his disposition.

"You know, Sebastian, you're infinitely more alluring when you're in control of the situation." She tutted and shook her head in mock disappointment.

"And you're infinitely more exasperating when you resort to cheap parlor tricks to spy on me."

She disregarded his incivility and walked along the room, swiping a decorative glass bowl off the dresser as she passed. Everything was spotless despite being relatively abandoned. This was to be expected; Sebastian was rather obsessive-compulsive about tidiness. She slid open a dresser drawer and pulled out a hand towel placed there nearly eight years ago when she'd indulged fantasies of entertaining guests here. Such fantasies were never realized, and the room that was intended to welcome friends and family was now occupied by her contracted demon. The exorcist mused sadly at the cruel twist of fate, but she continued making her preparations regardless, trying her best not to let old memories win out. Sebastian watched her while seething in silence. He had no idea what she intended, but if she'd conclude this little encounter of theirs quickly, he'd be free to shift his form and try again to repair himself. She moved to where he stood, clearly oblivious to the fact that he did not wish to be near her at all. Her eyes no longer sparkled mischievously but narrowed at him in seriousness. Alexandra placed a hand to the uninjured side of his chest and pushed him backwards gently. He allowed himself to be guided into a seating position, more out of complacency than submission. Arguing with her would only prolong his misery. So he kept his peace. In any other situation, having his master loom over his bed would have been a most enticing development, but as it stood, Sebastian was in no mood for games. He continued glaring at her, hoping that she'd take the hint and leave.

"This will hurt." She took his chin in hand and looked compassionately at him, leaving him wondering what, precisely, it was that would hurt. He was still working it out when she shoved him back roughly and straddled him without warning. "_Defixio." _He was pinned to the mattress by the spell, unable to do much more than shift from side to side helplessly. Magical injuries generally affected one's supernatural abilities, Sebastian knew, so he was unsurprised that he could not break the curse. But that knowledge only intensified his anger. Twin rubies glowered dangerously at the master who'd dared to Bind him without his express permission.

"You'd better hope I never heal, master, because if I do, I'm going to –"

"Stop acting like a child. I'm here to help. It seemed like you were going to be…_incompliant_, so I opted to restrain you. I haven't the energy to fight you tonight." Alexandra's Sebastian was insubordinate, yes, but always playfully so. This Sebastian seemed too much like a wounded animal, defensive and volatile. The marked shift in his behavior alleviated her frustration somewhat. _He must be in agony to be so combative without reason. _Again she brought her hand to his face, cupping his cheek and softening her expression into one that he'd seen perhaps once or twice before, but never directed towards him. "Trust me." Alexandra seemed on the verge of pleading. Sebastian relented. _She's uncommonly upset over a servant's injuries. How very interesting. _And as he realized that he'd scored another point in their ever-enduring battle of wills, he relaxed under her touch, allowing her to settle herself more comfortably across his hips. "Good boy."

She began undoing the buttons on his shirt then, swift fingers working with precise movements. Sebastian willed himself to consider any and all sundry manner of things except for the prospect of those fingers on his skin under more pleasurable circumstances. He focused on the keen sting resulting from his cut. It wouldn't do to allow his more human instincts to surface when she'd so blatantly violated her own rules about touch and proximity. No, he could not display his insatiable hunger just as she was beginning to acquire a kind of comfort with him. So he occupied himself by watching the various expressions of apprehension flit across her features as she revealed more and more of the damage wrought upon his supernatural flesh. Alexandra bit back a panicked gasp and gingerly pressed the tip of her finger against the blue-black bruise that marred his porcelain skin. He reacted so forcefully that he would have likely thrown her off had he not been bound by her spell.

"This looks quite serious. Dark magic alone could never counteract this. Why didn't you say something?"

"I'd not exhausted my options before you so rudely interrupted." The words were acerbic, yes, but the tone had softened and she understood this to be a peace offering. He flinched as she continued examining him; clearly he was maintaining his nonchalant affect with a great deal of effort. She felt a rush of affection as she considered this unyielding devotion to his bodyguard's aesthetic.

"Did this happen because you ignored my order?" Perhaps his ears were deceiving him. He was relatively incapacitated, after all. But he was almost certain that her cadence carried in it a touch of remorse.

"Orders are not absolute, as you know. When slighted, the magic that enforces them must be expended somehow. My mangled body is the unfortunate consequence of such a release of power. But if I had followed your order and pursued the magician who escaped, you would have been left defenseless when his associates arrived in reinforcement."

So there it was - he disobeyed her because he had sensed approaching danger. "You allowed yourself to be maimed to save me?" Alexandra was staggered by the implications of these actions. A self-sacrificing demon – his very existence challenged the systems of belief around which she'd crafted her whole life. Feelings of deep insecurity and shame emerged as she realized that it was her tactical inexperience that led to Sebastian's current impairment. If she'd been more thoughtful about how to pursue this latest group of Rasputin's devotees, if she had heeded his advice, they might have both emerged from the battle unscathed. _Hubris_. It was a mistake she'd made before, and back then it cost her everything that mattered. Alexandra sighed wearily. _Will I never learn? _The demon could practically taste the anguish as her mind whirled in a mad attempt to stop the dangerous inertia of her thinking. He would have keened in giddiness if he could.

"You are making the mistake of thinking better of me than I deserve. I will not risk your life at the cost of tainting your soul's flavor. As you know, I am a very discerning demon," he said drolly. He would disabuse her of that naive notion of hers - that her charge was some sort of tragically misunderstood angel in devil's dress. Alexandra fixed him with a look of skepticism, but she said nothing more as she leaned in to place a very quick, very chaste kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you."

He laughed, and then nearly choked as the pain once again shot through him. "There are better ways to compensate me, master." He spoke with patent difficulty. Alexandra knew she would have to work quickly before the damage became irreversible.

"Don't worry. I have something better to offer in recompense." And with that she brought out a small penknife from her jeans pocket and slashed her wrist in one fluid motion. He struggled against his bindings instinctively, but his effort was futile. Alexandra grunted in pain as the blade slid easily through her flesh. She did her best to ignore the resultant prickle that was now traveling up her arm. She collected her blood in the bowl that she'd retrieved from the dresser and placed it carefully beside the prone demon who could only watch in horror as it dripped from her wrist in a steady trickle.

"You unimaginable fool. I cannot possibly heal you as I am now." Sebastian nearly shouted. She'd cut herself quite deeply; he could tell as much from the pressure of the blood as it streamed from her arm.

"Calm down. It isn't as bad as it looks and Yuri will be able to patch me up, provided that I can finish with you before I bleed out." She smiled reassuringly. "I'm going to Unbind you. I need your help. Will you tie this towel tightly enough around my wrist to slow the bleeding for now?" He nodded, knowing that speed was essential. There was no time to disapprove of her methods. "_Solvo_." Sebastian felt the Binding give way and he sat up, carefully wrapping an arm around her so she wouldn't lose her balance as he shifted. He then tied the towel into a very tight knot around her wrist, just as instructed. Immediately, the thick white cloth began turning scarlet. He did his best to conceal his worry.

Alexandra pulled a plastic package out of her other pocket. She peeled away the packaging, revealing a length of surgical suture thread attached to a curved needle. This did not comfort her demon in the least. A hint of a smirk played at the corner of her lips as she took in his expression. "Don't worry. Isaac taught me how to do stitches. He was very accident prone." Alexandra dropped the needle-suture assemblage into the bowl of her blood. She was still sitting on Sebastian's lap. As a result he could hear without difficulty that her heart rate was slowing and her breathing was becoming labored. Again he subsumed his concern under the facade of duty. He lifted the bowl so that she wouldn't over-tax her injured hand. "Thank you." The magician closed her eyes and focused intently on the task at hand. Her plan would require an inordinate amount of energy transfer. "_Noyte oycha-ef_._"_ The liquid flashed like a garnet catching the sun's rays, nearly startling the demon as he took note of the unprecedented amount of her own supernatural life force that she'd infused into it. _Am I worth so much, master? _Carefully, Alexandra fished out the needle with a pair of tweezers, positioning it so as to secure it in their grip. The silvery point glinted ominously under the harsh overhead light.

"You should put that aside and prepare yourself," she said bracingly, nodding at the bowl. "I expect it won't be pleasant to be sown back together with this."

She was right. As Alexandra pushed the needle into Sebastian's flesh, he felt a searing sensation that he'd not felt since Falling from Heaven in a whirlwind of fire. He inhaled sharply before growling in agony. His fingers curled involuntarily, clutching at the bedding, tearing into it as lacquered talons fought for purchase against the spasms of pain shooting across his chest. He did not recoil or buck, though, being as careful as possible to stay very still, lest he disrupt Alexandra's precarious balance and send her tumbling to the floor. He entertained every conceivable distraction in hopes of diverting his attention from the feeling of being sliced apart by scorching razor blades. Perhaps being impervious to pain was a disadvantage, he thought. Surely if he'd grown accustomed to it, he would not be in such torment now. Alexandra tugged at the thread, causing him to gasp despite the fact that he had no need to draw breath. Tiny explosions appeared behind his closed eyelids, and through the white hot burning now overwhelming the left side of his body, he could feel the lightest puff of air against his neck. Alexandra nuzzled him, slipping her lips along his skin. He detected their delicate press against his ear.

"Shhhh. I know it hurts," she whispered in a tone that was an odd mix of seductive and soothing. "I'm so sorry. Please bear with it a bit longer." He would have scolded her for coddling him if he trusted himself to speak.

She continued in that manner, dragging that infernal needle through him repeatedly, pulling his wound closed, covering his neck and cheek with consolatory kisses as if such gestures would assuage the torture of having his demonic skin pieced together with divine energy. When finally she finished, he let out a relieved groan and sank slightly into the bed. Both of them were covered in sweat; Alexandra's blood loss coupled with the amount of preternatural energy she expended had taken their toll. Despite her exhaustion, however, she grinned broadly at the now-closed slash across his chest. The thread glowed gold as its miraculous efficacy began to reverse the damage. The wound was sealing itself. She could see his bruises beginning to melt away. He would heal. He would be fine. He would be her impertinent yet steadfast bodyguard again. She leaned her head against his shoulder, allowing the relief to wash over her at last. _Thank God. _

She'd started to get up when she felt his firm hands on her hips, keeping her rooted to the spot. Alexandra arched a wary eyebrow at her servant, fully expecting to be met with his trademark smirk. But he only looked at her curiously, like he'd not seen her properly before. Without speaking a word, Sebastian slid his hands up her waist and brushed her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. He never once dropped his gaze from hers. Small though it was, this was a profoundly intimate gesture devoid of his usual bravado. _He's never been so...hesitating. _Indeed, the demon was nothing if not forward in his pursuit of carnality. But tonight his actions seemed unrehearsed, impulsive even. They were not borne by a desire to seduce her for seduction's sake, she realized. She doubted that even he would be able to pinpoint the precise motivations for the tenderness that he demonstrated now. The realization caused her heart to twist in a bittersweet sort of way. _How does he know to hold me like this? To look at me like that? Can he see my memories of Isaac? _As such, she found herself unable to fight the _want_ bubbling up inside her. She'd not felt the touch of a lover in eons, it seemed. That her resistance to his charms had diminished as a result of her spiritual expenditure was normal. She expected to be more susceptible to him in her current state. What was surprising, however, was that Alexandra no longer struggled against the desire that she tried so desperately to bury. She felt her own hands trailing up his chest and around his neck, carefully avoiding the stitches that she'd just placed. Her fingers moved of their own accord, controlled by invisible marionette strings, pulling him closer with all the inevitable draw of the moon on the tide. In fact, she'd become so lost that she forgot completely about her own injury. Finding that she had no wherewithal left, she consigned herself to becoming his prey in every sense of the word. She'd already forgiven him for taking advantage of her present weakness. If anything, only a heavy sadness obtained as a result of her shameful lack of resolve. Regret would doubtless come on the immediate heels of her actions tonight. She decided to contend with it in the morning.

"Sebastian," she whispered in resignation, "If you ask me for tonight, I won't have the will to deny you." He leaned in then, his lips ghosting up her neck and along the edge of her ear. Alexandra's breath hitched in her throat. She abandoned herself to his embrace. The thought of his hands traversing her bare skin made her shiver. He would be warm. Of that she was certain. But would he continue to be so gentle? She waited for him to make his play.

"Then I'll not ask," he said, kissing her forehead before releasing her. Momentary astonishment caused her mouth to fall open, but she quickly recomposed herself, waiting for him to renege, or at least humiliate her for being such an easy mark. "You should go upstairs and have Yuri tend to your injuries." He leveled his crimson eyes on her meaningfully. "Please. Go now. I am incapable of my usual self-restraint at the moment." Alexandra was floored. There was no smug grin alighting his lips, no triumphant gleam in his eyes. If anything, he looked defeated.

He'd won. She agreed to consummate their contract physically. He'd been pursuing that particular goal since the beginning. But now he forfeited just as he emerged victorious. _What a strange, strange demon. _Alexandra made her way out of the room, acutely aware of the fatigue that now descended upon her. _I probably would have fainted if Sebastian had taken me up on my offer. What was I thinking? _She pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head at no one in particular. It was a good thing Yuri had prepared his own surgical sutures ahead of time. She'd clearly lost too much blood. There was no other explanation for such a significant lapse in judgment. _There'll be no living with him after this. What the hell am I going to do now? _She was mulling over this latest, most perplexing set of events when she heard Sebastian's voice calling after her.

"Master?"

She turned around and leaned against the doorway. _What now?_ "Yes? And stop calling me that."

He chuckled at the quickness with which she'd reclaimed her authority. "Why did you heal me at such great cost to yourself? You will be anemic for days."

"Leverage," she said matter-of-factly.

"Leverage?"

"Yes. My exorcist's blood now makes up part of your demonic form. You will find it incredibly difficult if ever you seek to betray our contract. With a little effort, I can always discern your whereabouts. Also, I find the irony of a divinely-healed demon rather amusing."

"I see." He did not smirk outwardly as he watched her walked away, but he knew that her inadequate explanation was an ineffectual veil for her true intentions. He would have never betrayed their contract, with or without her blood running through his veins; she'd no doubt known that. He'd had plenty of opportunity to do so, after all. Rather, Alexandra healed him because she felt responsible for his injuries. She _cared_ enough to set things right. That sort of kindness was a rarity in humans who forged demonic covenants, and for it, he was truly thankful. It appeared that their relationship had somehow transcended one of master and servant and become one of partnership. The respect he felt for this remarkable (if at times frustrating) master was the only leverage she'd ever need to compel his obedience, although he'd never be careless enough to reveal this. No, Alexandra certainly did not need to know _that_. Sebastian could only imagine the nuisances she'd contrive if she were privy to that bit of information. _Truly, s__he is a most fascinating human. _He fell back into bed and closed his eyes, and by the time she returned to check on him, he'd drifted off to sleep wearing the devil's smile.

* * *

'L' is for 'leverage'.

AN: And we've returned to our regularly scheduled fluff. I hope you liked this chapter (although I think it's my least favorite thus far).


	14. M

NB: I got this out earlier than anticipated; consider it a Christmas gift. If, dear reader, you'd like to spread some Christmas cheer in return, know that feedback is a writer's favorite gift. It would mean the world to me to know what you think. Really.

Also, I want to remind you that all of these vignettes will not fit neatly into the 'Fidelitas' timeline. You will certainly notice inconsistencies. I hope they are not too jarring. If it helps, you're welcome to consider this series an AU of that story (an AU of an AU, as it were).

Hey guys, I don't say this enough, but thank you for reading. All of you.

* * *

Alexandra Nikolayevich's love of sweets was legendary. When she was a very young girl, Yuri regularly indulged this sweet tooth with homemade cakes and cookies. She'd run home from school clothes askew and breath nearly gone in a desperate rush to sample her guardian's latest culinary achievement. Afternoon tea and cake was the perfect panacea for a schoolgirl's woes. From poor test marks to a broken heart, Yuri could mend nearly anything with the perfect treat. In those days, he was the magician, not her. That was before Alexandra hit puberty. When she realized that she could no longer devour such foods without causing serious harm to her waistline, she only indulged on very special occasions. In this, like so much in her life, her discipline tended to err on the side of self-denial.

Alexandra was also a notorious Scrooge. She hated Christmas. It was irrational to have antipathy towards a holiday, but it made perfect sense to Yuri. It was on Christmas Eve many years ago that Alexandra's parents were killed on the way home from a relative's holiday party. The official report claimed that the couple's SUV skidded on a patch of black ice before flipping over and exploding. But Yuri knew better. The residual magical energy at the site of the crash told an altogether different story – that the cult of magicians hunting descendants of the Romanovs had made their way to America. Identifying his employers' bodies had been difficult, but nothing crushed his spirit so thoroughly as having to tell a very young mistress that her parents would never come home. He remembered how Alexandra had handled the news with a stoic reserve that no child should possess. It was immediately afterwards that the two moved to New Orleans, where Yuri enlisted many an exorcist and magician to teach the girl how to use her supernatural gifts.

The exorcist's hatred of all things Yuletide ebbed after she was married, though. Indeed, she would spend inordinate amounts of time making sweets for Nikki and Isaac (sweets that she never ate) and decorating the massive manor with boughs of fir and baubles of all colors. After their deaths, however, she reverted to hating the season. As a gesture of sympathy, and because he didn't know what else to do for his ward, on the first Christmas after their deaths, Yuri baked a cake as a kind of present. Alexandra, for her part, forgot her strict avoidance of desserts and ate it with such relish that the sight of her tugged at his long memory in a bittersweet way.

That was before the demon decided that the birth of Christ was an occasion worthy of celebration. Things had changed in the Nikolayevich manor since Sebastian's Summoning, no doubt, but his sudden love of Christmas left Yuri with a dreadful foreboding that settled in his chest and showed no signs of diminishing until after the New Year. The demon had magically turned the house into a Christmas paradise, complete with several large bedecked trees and mistletoe hanging from every opportune perch. Yuri confronted the horrifying scene on the morning of Christmas Eve. He had just decided to do away with as many of the decorations as possible when he heard a strangled scream coming from the foyer. _Too late. She's already seen. _If he was worried about his ward turning sullen and withdrawn, however, his concerns were misplaced.

"_Pira," _Alexandra intoned lazily as she shuffled down the steps in her pajamas, her eyes sparkling with the sort of mischief that had only been elicited by Isaac before now. The offensively ostentatious tree that Sebastian had set up in the foyer burst into magical flames, causing an awful acrid odor that arose from the synthetic ornaments being burned by supernaturally hot fire.

"Yuri, have you made any coffee?" she asked happily, completely ignoring the fact that the entryway was now in flames. "And Sebastian, wherever you are, you impish bastard, I order you to put out this fire and return this house to normal."

The demon materialized, a smirk alighting his lips and reflected flames dancing in his eyes. "Master, have you any idea how long it took me to put that up?" He asked it as though he'd been a particularly long-suffering subordinate.

"Likely less than a second. And it should take even less time to take it down." She walked down the stairs and past her servant with an imperiousness in her carriage that caused Sebastian's smirk to lengthen into a sharp-toothed grin. Clearly, he read his master's actions as an implicit challenge. Yuri could only shake his head in disbelief and pinch the bridge of his nose tiredly. All the evidence suggested that his day was going to be uncommonly long. In fact, it would be nothing short of a Christmas miracle if all the occupants of the house emerged with nothing more than minor bodily injuries. He made his way back to the kitchen for more coffee.

Yuri's predictions were unfailingly accurate. After setting things right in terms of decorations, Sebastian called forth a hellish choir of demonic familiars to perform a farce of carolers. The inky black creatures gathered in the recently cleared foyer and sang in a shrill screech, setting the humans' teeth on edge. Demonoid as they were, they cared not one whit for lyrical faithfulness. Wishes for a merry Christmas turned into wishes for the exorcist's slow and torturous demise, complete with mention of Lucifer's particular cruelty towards divine agents in Hell. Even Sebastian raised a concerned eyebrow at that. But Alexandra was more amused than anything. She retrieved a reliquary from the library as the ghoulish choir launched into a perverse version of the 'Carol of the Bells.' With the help of Saint Basil's rosary, she was able to exorcise the lot of them with little effort. Yuri kept mental score, noting with satisfaction that Alexandra was currently two for zero. _Sebastian has no idea who he's dealing with. I trained Sasha very well. _

Having failed by adding Yuletide accoutrements to the manor, Sebastian decided that matters might sway to his advantage if he removed things. He determined that Christmas is a holiday best experienced cold. He deactivated the central heating, smiling at the fact that this small action didn't require any magical effort. Never the underachiever, he then inundated the house with the cold Russian air and a self-contained snowstorm. _That's better, _he thought. Upon realizing that her home was now no more comfortable than the tundra, Alexandra decided that ordering him to set things right again would only increase his creativity for the next go-around.

"Sebastian, come." He materialized as asked, barely restraining himself from laughing outright as he took in the thick blanket that she'd wrapped around herself. "I'm having a dilemma. Can you guess what it is?" she asked, the supernaturally-sustained wind cutting against her words.

"Yes. I suspect you'd like to order me to undo this ambient change. But if you do so, you will have to contend with whatever I might contrive next, no?"

"Precisely." She seemed to be thoroughly amused, Sebastian noted. He tensed. When Alexandra smiled like _that_, he generally found himself in a position of distinct disadvantage. "And so I wondered how I might _convince_ you to stop acting like a schoolboy with a crush." She waved her hand in a gesture uncannily reminiscent of his own elegant flourishes. "I don't much like having my ponytail pulled."

"And, what, praytell, have you decided?" He spoke in a haughty tone, deciding that the very fact of her offering an incentive was indicative of his victory. There was no need to be alarmed.

She merely directed her gaze upward. He followed the line of her sight, and when he saw the lone sprig of mistletoe hanging from the library's ceiling, his eyes glowed with understanding. But Sebastian was no easy conquest; he'd teach her that before the day was out. One kiss was simply not sufficient to compel his obedience. He would hold out for a more enticing offer. That ambition was crushed as he leveled his eyes again on his master. Alexandra had shed her blanket, revealing that she'd been completely naked except for the impractical shoes that she'd put on. She was sitting in the armchair before the fireplace, one leg languidly crossed over another as the flames cast shifting shadows across her skin. He felt an anticipation creeping under his fingertips as he closed his eyes against the kinds of thoughts that could threaten to undo a servant's aesthetic. But as much as Sebastian had accurately marked his master's proclivities, she had in turn marked his various kinks. It was those naughty tendencies that she appealed to now as she slid her hands from her neck to her stomach and downward from there. Sebastian was imagining his hands slipping along her body in place of hers when she uncrossed her legs. The gnawing sensation in the pit of the demon's stomach intensified into a pitch of near-frenzy, clouding his thoughts and causing a sweeping heat to build in the room, even as an arctic chill settled around them.

"Master," he made an effort to learn the precise nature of her game, "what exactly are you offering?"

"Wouldn't you like to find out?" And that's when he realized that she'd won. It was likely that he'd get no more than a kick in the face, but the prospect of carnal pleasure was all too alluring, and he'd never forgo the opportunity to finally taste of his master's flesh. He moved closer, tugging at his gloves with his teeth as his fingers itched for contact. Alexandra stayed put, allowing him to come to her. It was her aim to maintain perfect control of the situation. "Fix the temperature in here, will you? And no more additions or subtractions to the house."

"I can keep you warm," he purred, but he waved a hand and the room returned to its former coziness, all the snow and wind having been banished outside.

"And the manor?" she inquired.

"You have my word that I will neither conjure or remove any items or entities in this house tonight." Alexandra was flattered at the level of his desire. He had denied himself any possible loopholes, at least until sunrise. The storm rattled the mullioned windows slightly, but the magician could only hear the forceful stammering of her heart as Sebastian inched ever closer. He'd been lured by her actions, but his feline movements left her without doubt that the Nikolayevich manor housed only one expert seducer, and the master of the house was not that individual. She could already imagine how he'd taste – a bit like cloves and ginger, sin and smoke.

Sebastian knelt in front of her. He placed his hand on her thighs and chuckled as she gasped slightly at his touch. Alexandra might have initiated this little game, yes, but he had a number of virtuoso skills at his disposal that would secure his win. Demons were lust personified, after all. Resisting him would take every ounce of her efforts. She leaned forward slightly, placing a shaky hand under his chin and pulling him towards her. And when their lips met, Alexandra discovered that she'd been wrong. Sebastian didn't taste as she imagined. In fact, he was rather sweet, but not cloying – like cinnamon. But the taste of sin was certainly present, and it was that particular note to which she responded when she _ordered_ him to take his hands off her and move aside.

If he didn't recognize that each such encounter raised the stakes little by little, he would have been very angry indeed. But he was far too perceptive not to notice how her pulse raced as he came close, and how her breath seemed to catch when he tugged gently at her hair. Sebastian might have been frustrated tonight, but all the evidence suggested that her defenses would crumble in short order.

This knowledge didn't mean he wouldn't have his revenge, however. He was by no means a humanitarian, and his master had made a veritable sport out of piquing his appetite only to deny him. So, one couldn't really blame him for grinding up the mistletoe that had precipitated his current situation and then slyly mixing it into Yuri's cake batter. Neither Alexandra nor Yuri had noticed anything, and by the time the exorcist had finished her third piece of cake, her stomach was in knots, her pulse thready, and her complexion peaky. A fever rushed through her skin, causing her to run out the front door and throw herself into the wintry night in hopes of quenching the fire coursing through her body. She gulped several breaths of air before hitting her knees and retching violently as her stomach rejected the poisoned dessert.

"Oh dear. Are you unwell, master?" Sebastian was leaning against the front door, arms crossed nonchalantly over his chest and ruby eyes positively flashing in delight.

"What did you do?" The words issued forth in a harsh whisper.

"I suppose you think you were very clever with that mistletoe. Perhaps. But a clever woman would know that it's dangerous to provoke a demon." He spoke the words in a matter-of-fact tone that sent a chill through her recently feverish limbs.

"You poisoned me." Alexandra was shocked. Sebastian had never intentionally put her life at risk. Indeed, he'd even sacrificed himself on occasion so that she might be delivered from danger. _Maybe I pushed him too far. _"I can't believe you'd resort to such cheap means to kill me, Sebastian." A nascent anger was building in her, although she knew that getting worked up would only cause the poison to spread more quickly through her bloodstream. She tried to calm herself and find a way out of her current predicament. Perhaps Yuri could prepare an antivenom.

"Don't be absurd. You're a magician. You should know that mistletoe is only deadly in massive quantities." He tutted. So, she was not in any mortal peril. This did nothing to soothe her fury.

"Get the hell away from me before I find a way to maim you permanently!" She growled furiously at him before doubling over again.

Yuri appeared just as Sebastian dematerialized in a whirl of black smoke. Alexandra didn't have to explain. Her guardian was an expert on magical plants, and given the fact that the house was recently overrun with mistletoe, it did not take him long to put two and two together. He sighed wearily, made a mental note to douse the demon with holy water, and then guided Alexandra up to her bedroom and deposited her in the shower, where she cleaned herself up before collapsing altogether in the bathtub. The mistletoe seemed to have been expelled from her system; Alexandra no longer felt on the perpetual verge of vomiting. She did, however, feel like killing her demon bodyguard. But her anger relented the tiniest bit when she considered how she'd treated him earlier that evening. _I suppose he's just getting me back. _Sebastian was ruthless, she knew. It made him an invaluable asset in her mission for revenge. Knowing that his tastes tended towards darker fare, she reconciled herself to being grateful that he'd not managed to kill her.

The magician emerged from the bathroom in much better spirits. This cheerfulness disappeared when she saw that the object of her recent thoughts was leaning against the far wall of the room. He was clearly waiting for her. Again she was thankful that his gentlemanly politeness kept him from intruding upon her privacy (most of the time anyway).

"What now? Have you turned Santa's sleigh into Charon's ferry? Decided that we need a nativity scene featuring the birth of the Antichrist?"

"No." He nearly snickered.

"Are you here to offer me some tea laced with arsenic, then? Or do you think I've suffered enough?" Alexandra rounded on him. Sebastian did nothing to conceal the sheer satisfaction he was extracting from this conversation. He was supremely pleased with himself.

"Nothing like that, no."

"Well? What is it then? I suppose you want me to apologize for trying to seduce you. I might have thought about it, _before_ you poisoned me!" Her voice was on the verge of reaching a pitch that should have been beyond a human's range.

"An apology would be ideal, yes, but I would prefer such sentiments be demonstrated through action rather than words," he retorted smoothly.

"Keep dreaming, you jerk." He laughed then, his rich, vibrant voice filling the room and causing Alexandra's eyebrow to twitch in annoyance.

"Master, do you remember last Christmas?" He finally inquired.

"I remember not having to worry about whether or not my contracted demon had made my life a living Hell. And how many times must I tell you to stop calling me that?"

He sighed in pretend impatience. "I take your point. But you've not answered my question."

"I remember," she admitted softly. And she did. She'd rather not conjure up those memories now, but she certainly remembered last Christmas. It was the first she'd spent without her family, and while she pretended to be delighted with Yuri's gift of tea and cake, she could ill conceal her true feelings from the preternaturally sensitive creature at her side. Alexandra had been exceedingly depressed, and quite suicidal. In fact, once her guardian had fallen asleep, the exorcist contemplated placing his handgun to her temple and pulling the trigger. In a moment of cowardice or insight, she decided that a better course of action was to drown herself in several glasses scotch. Last Christmas had been the very worst in a life filled with awful Christmases.

"Our contract stipulates that I protect your life. Did it never occur to you that you might need protection from yourself?" He said seriously before pressing his fingers to his temple and shaking his head in feigned disappointment. "I wonder why I deign to serve such a foolish master."

Alexandra could have fallen over in surprise. Once again, Sebastian had displayed a humanity that was a rarity even in humans. Of course, he'd demonstrated his twisted version of kindness by feeding her poisoned cake, but she'd fall into an infinite cycle of analysis if she dwelled on the details. His inconsistency would never be comprehensible to her ever-rational mind. Even so, his efforts at distracting her had worked beautifully. She walked towards him and leaned her head on his chest. He interpreted the gesture for what it was – an expression of gratitude in a moment of weakness.

"Foolish," he whispered as he slipped his fingers through her still-damp hair. "Do you realize you're grateful for my performing duties for which you've already rendered your soul?"

She stepped back from him then, knowing that his seemingly-innocuous words carried in them a warning not to take his true nature lightly. Alexandra was cognizant of the fact that he was no angel, but sometimes, she thought that she could see facets of sentiment underneath his façade that betrayed the demon's heart. He almost felt like a blessing on those days.

"Goodnight, Sebastian. You can go now." She adopted her usual commanding tone, intimating quite clearly that she'd accepted his admonishment with all due sincerity.

"Merry Christmas, master."

* * *

'M' is for 'mistletoe'.

AN: My protagonists are deserving of lumps of coal, aren't they? Merry Christmas, all! Hope you have a wonderful holiday.


	15. N

NB: I'm back, and I passed my exams. All I need to do now is write that pesky dissertation, and then you all can call me Dr. Azadari!

Shameful, then, that I'd rather be writing fiction.

You've no idea how elated I am to be back. And I'm trying different things. Let me know how you like this particular story.

* * *

She was like a dream, Sebastian thought, the sort that dissipated upon waking, only coming to mind in fragments filtered through a long, long memory. When he thought about his master, he wondered if he'd met her before, if her soul had previously slipped through his fingers like so many sands slipping through the hourglass. Searching for pieces of her in his past was like trying to recall an evening that concluded with the drinking of nepenthe. Everything beyond the personage of Alexandra Nikolayevich was a murky haze, coalescing into clarity with only the most ardent of effort. Still he searched.

Souls aren't infinite in number, after all. And he'd been roaming the earth long enough to encounter most of them. He'd been roaming the earth long enough to _claim_ many of them.

And while his current contractor was undoubtedly unique, sometimes he'd feel the ghost of familiarity shadowing her steps.

Souls aren't infinite in number. But a demon's gain is an angel's loss, and the Almighty would doubtless stack the odds in His favor.

_So, maybe souls are infinite in number_, the devil considered, a faint crease forming between his brows as he worked out the implications of either option. He'd not been privy to Heaven's workings after the Fall, and the ensouling of men was certainly the sort of secret that all demons wished to discover. Imagine knowing precisely how souls are created, embodied, and released. Imagine knowing what only God knows. It was no wonder that Heaven did not yield itself readily.

But sometimes, when talking with Alexandra conjured phantasms of conversations past, or when her fingers traced patterns in his skin that had been etched there millennia ago, he was certain that he was a breath's length from learning the truth about time, souls, and reincarnation—about the cosmic balance that escaped the perceptive faculties of most humans.

Because whether infinite or finite in number, souls were his only weakness. And to eyes accustomed to the darkness, some souls shone like silver fire.

* * *

Alexandra steepled her fingers atop her desk and looked at Sebastian in pure annoyance. She'd just gone through the finer points of her admittedly dangerous plan to gather information. He'd listened carefully, but that he offered nothing of corrective strategy or any manner of opinion on said plan suggested to her that he was wholly against it. He could be insufferably petulant at times. She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. _You know things have hit a nadir when you find yourself trying to convince a demon to take the troublesome route._

He'd be hesitant to endanger her life; she knew this too well. But Alexandra never flattered herself that Sebastian was particularly concerned about her. After all, if she died as a result of her more adventurous scheming, the devil could feast on her soul and move on to warmer climes and less demanding contractors. Yet the demon never assented to such scheming without a great deal of persuasion on her part. Sebastian was a connoisseur of souls, and he'd been guiding hers, pitching its taste to his very discerning preferences. As such, any unusual or traumatic experiences it underwent before he acquired it could conceivably alter its flavor. For a perfectionist such as he, this would never do. But that didn't mean she understood his whims completely. _As if I've not endured enough trauma as it is. What's a bit more?_

Alexandra opted for provocation. Sometimes it worked. "You know Sebastian, you're shamefully easy to read for a demon."

He raised a perfectly arched brow and scowled. "Master, I understand that you're a reckless fool." The scowl shifted into something far more alluring and dangerous. "And I know how you enjoy a thrill."

She shivered.

"Even so, I am duty-bound to tell you that this so-called plan of yours is not only perilous but likely to be ineffectual."

"Don't you think you're overreacting?" Alexandra inquired wearily.

"No."

She gave up. "Well, it matters very little what you think. I will do what I must." With that she stormed past him, the scent of summer jasmine following in her wake.

And he smiled at the memory.

* * *

Her name was Livia. She'd once been a ravishing maiden, hair like spun onyx, skin of a creamy white, and the sort of figure that clouded men's minds. Perhaps it was this beauty that had attracted the eye of Octavian, or perhaps it was her wit. She was amply gifted with both. The demon, wearing the guise of the future emperor's advisor Lucius, had known of her since Octavian contracted him to help build and secure an empire like the world had never seen. In fact, it was Lucius who'd advised the union, scandalous as it was for a divorced, recently pregnant woman to marry again so shortly after giving birth. Demons know that even scandal can be forged into virtue with the right sort of tempering.

The would-be emperor had been hesitant about subverting social mores, but such concerns dissipated once he met the young lady. Livia was an inordinately charming creature. And the lady had every intention of claiming a crown. Lucius had been right about the marriage; he was right about many things. Livia was a model wife and able household administrator, a paragon of virtue for all women of the empire to follow. It was in her interests to be so, and she carried out her duty with precision and intelligence.

Away from the eyes of the court, however, the empress was a cunning minx, unrepentant in her cruelty and unyielding in her ambition to see her own son crowned. Tiberias was not a scion of the Julii; he was not the emperor's adopted heir. He'd need a great deal of assistance in securing the crown. So Livia schemed. Such schemes were oftentimes executed with poison. She'd removed at least three competitors before Octavian's suspicions were aroused. Afterwards, the emperor took to eating food that he'd picked himself or that had been prepared before him.

Lucius was impressed that such dangerous games had gone undetected for so long. Through it all, he watched with a Cheshire smile and a knowing gaze. The demon's charge had been the realm, after all. He was not much concerned with petty palace intrigues. Even so, Livia was a supremely fascinating human, and the best source of entertainment he'd had in a very long time.

One day, he realized that he'd been watching her unseen for the better part of an afternoon. Through the gossamer curtains in the emperor's private chambers, he saw her leaning precariously over the balcony, gripping the branches of a particularly verdant fig tree in one hand and using the other to paint the tree's fruit with clear liquid from a dish. Her hair swirled around her in grey-black waves, and the pale blue silk of her dress twisted in the breeze. She shivered. It was too cold for such light attire, but she was undeterred. He smiled at her tenacity.

Before he could stop himself, Lucius strode up behind her bowed, "Your highness, might I offer my services?"

"Lucius. Are you not supposed to be at my husband's side at all times?" Livia inquired boldly but kept applying the glaze to the fruit.

"His highness is in the Senate." She did not respond, so he continued, "but I suspect that you were aware of that."

She stopped then, knowing without a doubt that he'd found her out. If Lucius expected her to be fearful or apologetic, he would have been disappointed. She only turned to look him in the eye with an enigmatic smile. It was a look of challenge, of dare. She was no longer a nubile beauty, but the way she rested her hand on her hips and raised a brow made him fight back a wave of desire.

"I know what you are." Livia spoke assuredly.

"Do you?" He moved closer, eyes flashing briefly. "Then you should not be so quick to end his highness's life. For then you know too what surrendering his soul to me would mean."

"What is a soul to me when I've an empire to gain?"

He took the lady's free hand in his. Like years ago, it was fine-boned and delicate—the hand of a noblewoman. He traced with his finger the veins that had lately become prominent on its back. "I no longer have a reason to preserve his life, your highness. I've completed our contract. The empire is at peace."

"Why would you tell me this?"

"My lady, I may be a demon, but I play fair. Your actions will condemn his highness's soul, but yours too could be imperiled as a result. And I think it would be a shame if so great a lady were brought low." _...without my instigation_, he supplied mentally.

She jerked her hand out of his grasp and stalked off, a light scent of summer jasmine trailing behind her. "It matters very little what you think. I will do what I must."

* * *

He often wondered if she was like this with Isaac. _Probably not_, he thought, ignoring the small flare of jealousy that followed upon the heels of that realization. No, Alexandra was not likely to be so aggressive with her husband, Sebastian concluded as he felt her nails cutting into his back. He did not doubt that she'd drawn blood, and if he were human he might have felt pain, but he was not, so the only thing he felt was a desire to reassert his dominance.

He slid steady hands up her naked and sweat-slicked flesh, moving them along the underside of the arms that were wrapped around him, finally pinning her wrists above her head and nipping at her earlobe. She gasped and hooked a lean, bare leg over his hips, pulling him closer. In response, he smirked against the delicate skin of her neck.

"Master, you seem to be particularly responsive tonight." Another sharp inhale as he increased the pressure on her bound wrists.

"Sebastian, this is the _worst_ possible time to call me master," she growled around uneven breaths. He couldn't help it. Her hands slipped from his grip as he laughed heartily at the various shades of irritation flitting across her face. The devil loved the looks of unmitigated exasperation that she sent whenever he called her 'master' in inopportune circumstances. It was a game that he would never grow weary of playing.

Sebastian licked across her pursed lips as he tangled long fingers in her decidedly mussed hair. "I enjoy the irony," he stated.

Alexandra's arms had once again slipped around him, her fingers dragging down his back in a slow, intent scrape. Again, he was thankful for his regenerative abilities. Still he hissed at her ministrations. "Ah, why do you do that?" he asked, once again trapping her hands.

"Are you complaining?" It was a whisper accompanied by a seductive brush of tongue along the outer shell of his ear.

"Quite the opposite. I'm merely curious."

She laughed then. "Did you think I would allow myself to be marked without marking you in turn?"

He captured her lips with his own while his mind tried in vain to bite back the recollection.

* * *

His name was Grandier. Urbain Grandier had been convicted of the crimes of sorcery, black magic, and collusion with demons. He'd been sentenced to burning at the stake when the devil visited him in his prison cell.

The devil in question, known throughout Loudun as Etienne Vernant, had not been contracted to father Urbain Grandier, who was parish priest of St-Pierre-du-Marche. No, the priest himself was exceedingly well-read, rather wealthy for a church official, and uncommonly beautiful—the sort of man who had no need of demonic assistance. Bright blue eyes sparkled under an unruly mop of inky hair as he delivered impassioned masses each Sunday. Such vigorous explications of Holy Scripture sent all the young women in the parish into fits of mindless chattering and covetous glances. Etienne would know; the demon never missed a mass. And he'd been eyeing the young man from afar for nearly a year when stories of demonic possessions spread like wildfire throughout the tiny village.

To be precise, Etienne was the only demon living in Loudun at the time. While the reports of nuns being possessed by the devil were in fact his doing, the possessions themselves were little more than visions and illusions that he'd contrived for this very end. He'd done so on the orders of his master, a young man having the misfortune of loving a woman who'd fallen under the priest's spell. The youth thus determined to ruin the clergyman. Etienne would not have answered the Summons at all were he not incurably bored. His master was an ordinary, tiresome spurned lover. The devil once considered killing the man and forfeiting his soul altogether, but a contract is a contract, and this particular demon prided himself on playing fair.

That was before Urbain Grandier caught his fancy. Once he finally met the man he was ordered to destroy, Etienne found a renewed interest in his current contract and the possibility of forging the next. Grandier was so very enticing, after all. He would be a delicious conquest—of this the demon had little doubt.

It surprised him not at all that the town was quick to convict the enigmatic newcomer. Etienne was exceedingly efficacious in carrying out his master's directives. But although he had been condemned, the priest did not seek supernatural assistance. This was a problem Etienne resolved to rectify.

And so the demon visted the priest in his cell mere hours before the execution. It was located in a basement and it was dark, perhaps too dark for humans. Etienne saw perfectly. Knowing that the unannounced presence of another in a locked room would frighten his mark, he produced a lantern and placed it on the floor. In the dim glow, Grandier's clothes looked roughened from continuous wear. They hung off his lank frame, giving him a sallow, unhealthy appearance that was only exacerbated by his sunken cheeks. His eyes retained their luster, however, and his lips were still pink, albeit chapped. Thick hair framed his face, and despite all that the man had doubtless suffered over the past few days, he was still breathtaking. Devils know true beauty lies beneath the skin. Here they are in perfect agreement with angels.

Etienne walked slowly to the man, footsteps echoing loudly against the cobblestone floor. He settled himself on the lone cot facing the prisoner, tossing his rich velvet cape over his shoulder as he studied the other man like a predator stalking prey.

"I know what you are," Grandier said, the light of the fire lending an unearthly hue to his eyes. He spoke forcefully. _Good, _the demon thought, _I haven't the patience for timid masters._

"I would expect so. You're a priest, after all." He smirked as carmine sought out azure in the low light.

Grandier ought to have been furious for being wrongfully accused and made to die in so horrible a manner, but he only seemed resigned to his fate. "You're responsible for this?" He held up his hands, displaying where heavy shackles left cuts in his wrists. "All of this?" He gestured vaguely, no doubt indicating the village beyond his cell walls. "This…. evil?" Surprisingly, the man's voice retained the same vibrant baritone that had held congregations spellbound for hours at a time.

"I am. But blame is better directed at my master. I am bound by oath, as you no doubt know." Grandier only nodded and dropped his gaze.

_How ambrosial you are. Even in defeat, you are positively regal. _Etienne moved then, crouching before the prisoner and gently curling a gloved finger under his chin. He brushed stray hair from the man's face and leaned closer, eyes afire as he took in his would-be prey. Silent tears slipped down the priest's face—the only sign that he was in any pain at all. Grandier gasped in surprise as the demon licked a tear from his cheek.

"Why have you come?" he asked. Trembling hands settled against Etienne's chest, although they did not push him away. Etienne only feathered kisses along an unshaven jaw and whispered soothingly.

"To claim you." Gloved fingers were wandering unchecked over the priest's body, slipping beneath his tattered clothes and heating him from within. He'd been so cold before, and while he knew the true nature of the creature that now offered him comfort, he knew also that it would be the last succor he'd receive. So he accepted it gratefully. The demon's lips trailed from his jaw to his neck as the shackles around his hands and feet were magically released. Suddenly his limbs felt weightless. He used his newfound freedom to explore every exposed inch of the devil looming above him. Etienne had removed his cloak and shirt with quick, practiced movements, and in no short order, Grandier himself was disrobed and sprawled on the hard stone floor.

"I will not render to you my soul." The devil stopped his ministrations and pulled away. This was unexpected. That he could claim the other's body was never in doubt. He'd seen how Grandier's eyes always settled upon him every Sunday morning. Failing to claim the man's soul, however, had never crossed his mind. Such frustration of his ambitions had been a rare occurrence in his long, long life, after all.

He leaned down and pressed his lips against Grandier's ear. "Do you not wish to escape from here? I can save you." The words were spoken in a seductive lilt that belied promises of freedom, of vindication, of power and renown, and of Etienne's expert touches in the downy comfort of a luxurious bed. Such an offer was nearly impossible to refuse. But the priest had more resolve than the devil imagined.

"You can only prolong my life. You cannot save me." He said this as his hands banded tighter around Etienne, drawing him closer still.

And if the demon was surprised that his offer had been declined, he was no less than staggered when he felt rough, chapped lips moving along his collarbone and fingernails digging into his back with startling urgency. "Then why give yourself to me at all?"

Grandier laughed as he dragged his fingers roughly along Etienne's skin. "Because not every priest gets to mark a demon so well." And with that, the condemned man crushed their lips together.

Urbain Grandier was burned at the stake before a crowd the following day. Etienne Vernant did not attend the execution.

* * *

"Sebastian, you look like you're working out novel ways to torture me," Alexandra said teasingly as she trained her gaze on the demon that had been lost in thought for an hour. It was unnerving to see him so subdued.

"Not at all. I was considering the possibility of reincarnation," he replied distractedly.

She canted her head and slinked over, joining him on the sofa in front of the fireplace. Brown eyes considered the demon carefully before she spoke. "Why would you care what happens to souls that you do not claim?"

He turned to her and smiled in a plastic manner that left her with no doubt that she'd not get an honest answer. "Merely curious. What do you think, master?"

"I find the possibility enticing."

"And if you woke as if having drunk nepenthe, not remembering any of your former self?" Sebastian was truly curious now. Alexandra rarely spoke of matters pertaining to Heaven. He often wondered precisely how far her resentment towards God extended.

"I suppose each new life might be worthy of experiencing on its own, although I'd like to know what to do right this time around." A hint of sadness underscored her words. He knew that she did not consider her own life to be such a worthwhile experience. But she smiled sadly at him anyway, reaching forward to brush imaginary lint off his suit jacket.

"But even so, Heaven could only extend other lives to souls under its care. You could never have another life." Her fingers stilled.

"No, I couldn't." She did not articulate the other half of that statement, but he heard it anyway: _But Isaac and Nikki could live again. _

He took her hand in his and pressed his lips to the tips of her fingers. _I was right_, he thought, _some souls are extraordinary._

* * *

N is for 'nepenthe'.


	16. O

NB: Did you think I'd abandoned you? Never. But keep in mind this has been written after 48 hours of wakefulness, so the editing might be severely lacking.

Also, I have no idea how higher education works in Russia, nor do I have any experience with outdoor sports there, so suspension of disbelief, please?

* * *

"Master, what precisely is _this_?" Sebastian's expression was colored by an odd mixture of confusion and disdain. Pinched between his long fingers was a piece of rather complicatedly folded paper. Despite the ardent effort that had so obviously gone into crafting it, it was malformed and unrecognizable, even to an inordinately knowledgeable being like himself. He'd found it crushed between two very old spellbooks in the library.

Alexandra had been reading. She turned from her research to her demon, but as her eyes settled on the object in his hand, her demeanor hardened almost imperceptibly. "Where did you find that?" She spoke in an even-toned and measured manner designed to disguise her emotions. But the devil could practically _taste_ the anguish her words belied. It was positively ambrosial. He might have keeled in delight if such a gesture were not so unseemly.

"Between two books regarding the brewing of love draughts."

"How apropos." A sad, sad smile played at the corners of her lips and Sebastian bit back the sudden urge to kiss it away. He'd wanted to mark her since the night their covenant was forged, true, but lately he'd been besieged with a number of such inexplicable compulsions. He never sought to interrogate their underlying motivations with any rigor. Alexandra was food, after all. It was only natural that he desired a sample.

"Master?" She'd not responded. Given the set of her shoulders, the demon intuited that she'd rather not, but he knew too that she would. To do otherwise would seem weak, and his master would never deign to allow herself weakness, at least not ostensibly. Sebastian loved watching that hidden maelstrom of emotions break the surface of her façade. It was a delicious game that would never grow tiresome.

"It's origami."

"Origami?"

"The art of paper-folding." The exorcist's cadence curled incredulously, as though her charge lacked the intellectual acuity to comprehend.

A perfectly-formed brow arched in scorn. "With due respect," Sebastian intoned in a voice just bordering on this edge of ridicule, "I've walked this earth longer than you can imagine. To insinuate that _you_ might educate _me_ is patently absurd. In fact, I am expert in the art myself. I only wondered why I happened upon such a disfigured example amongst books that look as though they haven't been touched in years."

"Isaac put it there." She replied tersely, clearly refusing to participate in the banter he'd initiated. Gone was the typical playfulness in her tenor, the lilt in her tone.

"Isaac?" _That_ certainly piqued the devil's curiosity. Isaac's very name was anathema, even though his ghost prowled the manor freely. Rarely did it pass Alexandra's lips, and rarer still did it do so in his presence.

The magician sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose, knowing that the hint of fire in his vermillion irises meant that his demonic curiosity would not be easily sated. "It's a long story."

Sebastian absconded from his lofty perch amongst the uppermost shelves and settled himself before the fire. Carmine eyes softened as they locked with brown. Games were entertaining indeed, and Alexandra was a supreme diversion. But sometimes he found that he preferred companionship to predation. And he refused to investigate that unbecoming predilection as well. "Immortals have nothing but time."

* * *

_Sometimes magic really sucks, _Alexandra thought savagely as she tried and failed to tear her gaze from the handsome medical student with the startling green eyes and unruly black hair. He caught her looking and winked roguishly. A furious blush worked through pale skin as she turned away before her stare was interpreted as invitation. She'd been an exorcist for many years now, moving from America to Britain, and now to Russia. It was refreshing to return to her homeland, but her family history made her an immediate outcast. Little love is lost for the scions of nobility in a country whose history is littered with the excesses of bored aristocrats. Everyone assumed she was a vacuous, imperious witch who'd come to university to satisfy boredom. To be fair, this assertion was largely accurate, but the exorcist doubted that many of her colleagues demonstrated any staggering intellectual or emotional nuance of their own. This isolation was only compounded by her supernatural abilities. Given that many of her classmates were wary anyway, revealing the truth about herself would likely result in further ostracization. It was also unsafe. Yuri had warned to keep a low profile lest she catch the eye of the magicians who murdered her parents before becoming adequately prepared to fight them.

Even so, that medical student, Isaac, was gorgeous—both he and his blonde-haired, blue-eyed friend John. Unbeknownst to her, said gorgeous medical student had grown unsatisfied with surreptitious looks passed across a quiet library. He approached her one afternoon as she was gazing wistfully at an impossibly blue sky.

"What are you looking at?" he inquired. His voice was surprisingly soft-spoken and warm, not at all jarring.

But it startled her anyway. She'd assumed that the rooftop of the university library was her private sanctuary—incorrectly, apparently. "The sky." A hint of a smirk passed across her lips.

"I don't know if you know this, princess, but I'm a medical student."

"The lab coat is pretty obvious," Alexandra replied, still looking up and decidedly not at her companion. "And I'm not a princess by any stretch of the imagination."

"My friend John tells me you're a Romanov."

"Your point?" The slightest trace of warning underscored her tenor. Discussing familial business with a complete stranger was out of the question—especially a stranger whose familiarity with titles and nobility left very much to be desired.

"I didn't have one, really. I don't care if you're a princess. _I'm_ a doctor... well, a soon-to-be doctor. So I'm smart enough to know that what you're looking at is the sky. I was wondering what about today's sky was unusually compelling."

The exorcist couldn't help abandoning her feigned nonchalance. She laughed. The man had a charm and a mischievousness that was downright infectious. "I was envying the birds."

Isaac whistled. "What are you? Some sort of liberal arts student?"

"As a matter of fact, I am. We can't all be doctors, you know." Her smirk lengthened as she met his eyes. They were so remarkably unique, and while no doubt beautiful, it was the kindness and humor in them that was most enchanting. "I was just thinking that it'd be incredible if I could fly." The most clichéd, nauseatingly hackneyed answer that ever a besotted woman gave to a handsome man—but it was honest. She'd felt trapped by her lineage and her gifts all her life. How he'd managed to draw out the truth with so little effort, she couldn't fathom. He'd mock the triteness, no doubt. She prepared to defend herself.

"It would be wonderful indeed," he agreed, something more than deviltry and pretension alighting his irises now—something thoughtful and appraising. It was thoroughly unexpected, and it made her feel too vulnerable all of a sudden.

"Well, even liberal arts students have to hit the books." She said briskly, offering her hand. "It's nice to have met you. I'm Alexandra."

He took the proffered hand and squeezed slightly. "I know who you are, princess. I'm Isaac."

"I know." And because she was feeling a bit brave, "I've seen you around." Then she turned on her heel and walked away. "And don't call me that."

The following afternoon, Alexandra found an origami crane atop her library carrel. It was horribly misshapen and clearly produced by a novice, but the copperplate writing on its miniature wing was incredibly tidy:

_Come with me, princess. I promise to take you flying. Isaac._

Brown eyes rolled in annoyance at the address, but she'd be lying if she said that it wasn't flattering. And she'd be two steps from hell if she claimed disinterest. Even then, however, the magician was aware that maintaining distance was ideal. Getting involved with Isaac simply because he was attractive and beguiling was not sufficient measure against the fact that _she_ was different, that she'd always be hunted, and that she'd been given the abhorrent task of tracking down evil magicians and exorcising demons. Isaac could never understand her world; he was a scientist, after all.

But she accompanied him one afternoon nonetheless. He really was irresistible, it seemed. And while she huffed in suspicion when he asked her to wear a bathing suit (preferably a skimpy bikini), she also acquiesced without much complaint. It was a function of curiosity more than anything else, she told herself, and definitely _not_ related to the way he eyed her approvingly even in a not-so-skimpy bathing suit.

It turned out that Isaac's idea of flying was cliff diving.

"Absolutely not." Alexandra was adamant. "No way. No how. Not in a million years."

"See, this is what happens when you date princesses. They say one thing and mean another. I thought you envied birds." _That_ was definitely a challenge. It hadn't been articulated explicitly, but she certainly caught the insinuation of cowardice. The magician realized that it'd be best to demur, that this so-called date would result in her freak death and Isaac's murder at the hands of Yuri, but she merely inhaled deeply and nodded. _This is a really bad idea. _She was trembling. Doubtless he'd notice. _A really, horribly, unbelievably bad fucking idea. _And then he'd move on to more adventurous conquests, leaving her lamenting yet again that God had denied flight to humans. These thoughts were cut short when a tanned hand intertwined with hers. The light grip was enough to quell some of the fear, albeit not all of it. Nothing short of a miracle would accomplish that, and she'd already claimed her share of the miraculous when agreeing to the dive. "Don't worry. I do this all the time. And if you get hurt, you're in good hands, you know. I'm a—"

"—doctor. Yes, you've made that inescapably clear." She tightened her hold and looked out over the clifftop. It was an astoundingly tall drop, at least by normal standards. Clearly, Isaac was a bit mad. But the rare Russian sunshine made the water look refreshingly inviting, and the man at her side sent quickened blood whooshing through her veins, and even without all that, she'd never backed down from a contest before. There was no choice really.

So they jumped.

He'd been right about flying. For the several moments of free fall, time itself seemed suspended. Wind tousled her hair violently and her limbs curled back at the resistance. The feeling of weightlessness stole her breath and forced her eyes closed, precipitating a total loss of sensation except that of air rushing past and the press of a confident palm against hers. It was without a doubt the most exhilarating thing she'd ever experienced—and she'd fought demons.

It couldn't last, of course.

At least that's what Alexandra told Isaac when she felt herself becoming too accustomed to falling asleep in his arms and waking to those impish eyes. Fate had denied her a happy ending. She couldn't bring herself to jeopardize his. Remaining together would only compound the pain when all her secrets were laid bare. He'd feel cheated, betrayed—and then there was the vicious whisper in the corner of her mind that said he'd fear her. So she ended their relationship, grieving not only the loss of her lover but that too of the way he made her feel—carefree, weightless, invincible—like all the black magic and demons in the world were but nightmares, and they would dissipate as soon as she curled against his chest.

But the exorcist had never counted on Isaac's tenacity. Nor did she realize that he'd incorporated his passion for healing into every aspect of his life. She returned to the manor outside Petersburg one weekend only to find the future doctor seated seiza on the portico, scores of ill-made cranes creating a veritable snowfall of paper. He didn't acknowledge her approach... or his unexpected presence at her family home, for that matter.

"Isaac, what are you doing—"

"—here? If you'll drop your luggage, I'll tell you."

"No. What are you doing, period? Did I miss arts and crafts hour?"

His tone softened considerably, but still emerald eyes refused to meet mocha. "They say that if you fold a thousand of these, the gods will grant you any wish."

Alexandra scoffed. "It's not like you to be so maudlin."

When he finally looked up, there was a devilish leer pinned to his face. "Oh, you think I'm trying to get you back? Don't flatter yourself. I was just passing the time until you arrived."

She could only sigh. Isaac was so very frustrating at times.

"Sit down." He swept aside a number of the tiny birds so that she might join him. The night air was cool, perhaps too chilly to linger outside, but like so many other occasions, she acceded to him without fuss. She settled on the cold concrete and picked up one of his monstrosities.

"These are hideous, you know."

"Good thing I'm not an artist then," he winked. If Alexandra were the neurotic type, she'd have been offended that he could be so sanguine when they'd only separated weeks ago. "It got you to come fly with me, though. So I'll take that."

"Fair enough." A fond smile formed at the memory. "I can guess why you're here."

"I called Yuri." He spoke matter-of-factly, like this was nothing out of the ordinary, and Alexandra tried to smother the feeling of betrayal building against her guardian. That Yuri would reveal her history without her permission was inconsiderate at minimum. That he'd invite her ex-lover home was skirting around unforgivable. "After you left, I called him because you wouldn't call me. I always suspected there were things I didn't know, but I figured you'd tell me in your own time. Imagine my surprise when you ran instead. My fearless girl, turning tail so abruptly. It doesn't suit you, and I expect it's a liability in your line of work."

"Yuri told you everything, then?" _Of course he did,_ she thought. He was very thorough. "So you know that I'm not free. I could fold a million of these damn cranes and it wouldn't make one whit of difference." Alexandra tossed one off the porch. It landed several feet away, a stark, white splotch against quickly darkening earth. "I have a job to do. It's not conducive to relationships, not to mention the occasional dangers involved."

"Can you really do magic?" he asked curiously.

She picked up another and held it flat. _"Anemete." _It quivered in her palm before levitating and eventually coming to rest on Isaac's shoulder. Finally, it toppled off to join its flightless friends. He remained silent, and although his eyes had traced its minute flight pattern carefully, he offered nothing in the way of surprise. In fact, Isaac looked completely unimpressed. This sent a trill of indignation through the exorcist. At the very least, she expected him to be intrigued. "Oh, come on, you know that was the most amazing thing you've ever seen!"

He only laughed, his rich baritone seeping warmth into her skin. "It might have been before I met John."

She gasped. "Wait, are you telling me that John's an exorcist too?"

"Yes. So you see, I'm acclimated to the unnatural. Did you think you were special, princess?"

"Stop calling me princess."

Without warning, he pulled her into a kiss. It was gentle, hesitant, and it spoke of a depth of feeling that Alexandra had only just come to recognize in herself. She slanted her lips against his, even whilst noting that it was a mistake. "I intend to call you wife," he breathed against her mouth. And that's when her heart came crashing to her feet, waking her from an impossible dream and depositing her in the middle of harsh reality. Isaac was offering everything she'd never realized she craved, but she couldn't promise happily ever after. Her life was so very insecure, after all. It could only become more so if she accepted his proposal. Soft lips brushed along her ear. "I'm not afraid of your power, and I know you're not afraid of theirs. The rest we'll figure out. Together."

"I've never wanted _anything_ as desperately as I want you, Isaac. Even so, I'm bound in ways that you cannot comprehend."

"Then have me, Sasha. And stop complicating matters needlessly. I'll never stop you from doing what you must. But even magicians need assistants." He tucked an unruly curl of hair behind her ear. "You might be bound, but I know how to fly, remember?" As if in demonstration, he lobbed another paper missile. It landed several yards beyond hers. He shrugged in the smug manner that she'd lately come to adore.

They sent such projectiles flying off the porch very late into the night, each trying to outstrip the other until Alexandra was forced to cheat by magic.

After the wedding, she'd find the diminutive travesties of art in odd places throughout the house—small, quiet reminders of that night, and of the man who loved her despite her broken wings.

* * *

"So much for flying," Alexandra said resignedly, standing up and dropping the crushed crane into the fireplace without further comment.

"Master—"

"So much for reminiscing, too, Sebastian. We should get back to work." She resumed her reading, but his preternatural sight perceived all too clearly how her eyes shone brighter than before. The demon said nothing, however, and excused himself politely, knowing in the way that he simply _knew_ things that she fancied solitude.

In the morning, the exorcist discovered more origami atop her desk.

It was lavender flower—a lotus, formed with expert precision, its clean, sharp edges only highlighting the exquisite artistry with which it had been wrought. She regarded the attendant slip of paper that was covered in Sebastian's graceful, looping script:

_I cannot gift you cranes, master, as you are no longer free to roam the skies. Yet one would be remiss to slight the beauty of that which is tethered to the earth._

Alexandra's smile was wry, true, but it carried a touch of affection. _A hopelessly romantic demon. How hopeless indeed._

* * *

O is for 'origami'.


End file.
